These Black Eyes: Added Wreckage
by P0ST
Summary: Failed stories, chapters, arcs, and perhaps additional botcheries I've attempted to pile onto the train wreck that is These Black Eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**This takes place between HIVE at the Opera and Bad Publicity. It delves a little deeper into the 'cold' that all of the Titans (except Cyborg) were suffering from when Noir and Beast Boy returned. If anything, it shows an attempt to add more Raven/Noir to early Act One material. It also keeps things light hearted. Too bad it's further FAILURE.**

* * *

I'd lived on the road, on the run, in transience, in transport, in trouble, and in one trial or tribulation after another. I'd spent the night in trees, in caves, in moldy hotels, in even moldier apartments, and—finally—in a deep, dark cellar at the base of a gigantic concrete letter 'T'. I'd squeezed bare minutes of slumber in between fits of panic, in scuffles for my very life, during natural disasters, and amidst hostage situations. I'd even gone for a week, barely alive, avoiding sleep in order to track down some murderous vagabond or another in the Midwest—long before I even met the Titans. For a good solid three to four years of my life, I had vigorously avoided all natural sleep for the sake of constant vigilance.

So, it went without saying, I could wake up on a dime—given any random situation.

Which is probably why, without a doubt, I couldn't help but feel awkward and shameful when I slept through ten full rings of the Titan's intercom system one midnight.

"_Yo! Noir!"_ Cyborg's voice finally broke through the beeping and shouted into my dark-lit abode. _"Wake the hell up, dawg!"_

I turned in bed, hair-tossed, black eyes blinking into the fray of opaqueness about me.

_Wait……what?_

_Killer Moth? Did Kitten give up the trigger…erm…Mammoth's hair on fire? Dying cats? Huh?_

"_I've been trying to wake you up for five full minutes! Come on! This is important!"_

Important, indeed, and yet he couldn't come down to my bedroom and knock on my door? Alas, I held my tongue—_oh wait._ _And what the Hell was I dreaming about?_

I shuffled achingly to the edge of the bed—all but tripped—and stumbled the next two feet till I leaned limply against the wall-mounted intercom like a wounded Bruce Willis. My fingers fumbled, fiddled, and finally found the large, circular signal button beneath the speaker. I searched the depths of my exhausted, Westhaven-battered brain to summon my irrefutable knowledge of morse code—which I knew like the back of my hand—but the back of my hand was obscured in darkness and the faint dreamy images of Supergirl and Chun-Li gigglingly tossing giant moth monster guts at one another in a kiddie pool—_wait, what the Hell? Oh yeah—_I swiftly found the appropriate dashes and dots and replied, beepingly, to my communicating sub-commander in question:

'_Y-E-S?'_

"_Do you sleep under lead sheets or something, man?"_

"………." _'Y-E-S'_

"_Whatever. Look, I need a hand with something. Wouldja come up to……Seventh Floor, South Wing? Just right by the gym……"_

_I just want to sleep. I just want to sleep. I just want to sleep. I just want to sleep._

"_Please. Time is of the essence."_

_I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to._

'_B-E-.-R-I-G-H-T-.-T-H-E-R-E'_

"_Thanks, man. You're a life saver."_ _-blip-_

_Nietzsche damn it……..whatever……_

I mutely groaned, threw on a white t-shirt to complement my gray shorts, grabbed my shades, and stumbled like the zombie I was straight out my room and into the cellar. I didn't trip……until I did, about three steps up the stairs to the first floor of the Main Tower, and thus wedged a growing rift between myself and the deep emotions of my right knee.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Ding!_

I emerged from the elevator, squinting. All of the lights on the Seventh Floor were on, and it confused me as much as it vexed me. As I stumbled along—squinting my shaded eyes—I fumbled my hand murkily across the walls and flipped each lightswitch off as soon as I found them. A roaming blackout trailed my silhouette as I proceeded through the Tower towards my burning destination—

"Yo!" a flaming Cyborg with his glintingly-reflective metal skin was standing there before the ladies' bathroom. "Don't touch those lights! I turned them on for a reason!"

I hissed into my own teeth, turned so he wouldn't see my grimace, and slid up the wall towards him, y gaze stuck towards the floor. I counted the seconds as my retinae recovered from the whole ordeal—and realized stupidly for the first time that I was barefoot.

_Huh, you know for a seventeen year old swordsman—I'm pretty hairless. I bet even Robin shaves more than I do. But, who can tell when it comes to him? You'd have to murder an entire continent to get Robin out of the Tower in shorts—_

"Man, I am so……SO sorry to drag you out like this but I just *can't* be here for this!" Cyborg whispered hoarsely.

I hand-signed limply, avoiding the act of looking at his reflective form. _'Be here for what?'_

"Let me make a long story short; I got a call from PHASER Labs in West Central—They're done with an analysis that Robin asked for. It's something to do with a residue found on stolen cars some thugs were driving during a bank heist two weeks ago. Whatever the case, it's uber important that I go and collect the data first-hand. That and—erm—grab some Robitussin."

I raised a blind eyebrow…

"But I can't just leave her behind! So, like—Just watch out after her, will ya? I've been playing nurse allllll day—I swear, these saps are like Franklin Roosevelt on valium."

Now I was looking at him, squinting confusedly. I hand-signed: _'Watch after who? Who is 'her'?'_

Right there and then came a humongous retching sound from beyond the bathroom walls, followed by a mournful, wailing _'Dear Azarrrrrrrrrrrrrr'_ and a wet, coughing noise.

I jumped—visibly. _Holy Horseman; it's Raven…_

"Look, I **PROMISE** I'll be back in a fly's blink! I know they entrusted their health in my hands but if I don't leave the Tower just this once Robin will KILL ME! And when he's pissed, he's hardly in a reasonable mood."

I simpered. _'I believe you.'_ I gulped, looked at the shut door disparagingly, and hand-signed further: _'Wait, is she contagious?'_

"I've been with her and the other two lung-hackers for four days straight and still I haven't caught anything."

'_Oh…'_ I signed. A blink, and then I added: _'But wait—I thought you said you had an advance immune system.'_

"Uhhh……y-yeah," Cyborg scratched the human part of his head. A nervous smile, a sweatdrop, and he bolted: "So, cya!"

_Wait! 'Wait!'_

**SCHWOOSH!** The titanium Titan was gone.

"…….." I sighed.

Another retching sound.

I winced. My heartbeat lifted momentarily, returned to normal; and—exhaling—I pattered about towards the wall aside the bathroom and leaned against it. Waiting…….waiting….waiting….

A minute passed.

I glanced up at the blinding brightness, frowned, and reached a hand towards the lightswitch. I didn't turn it off, but I did manage to lower the illumination by fifty percent. The difference was catastrophically beautiful. My black eyes thanked me and I managed a smile.

_A retch—_

My smile left. I coughed, cleared my throat, and leaned back against the hallway wall. Silent. Still. Waiting…..waiting….waiting….waiting….

I looked down the hall one way, then the other way. I blinked. I made note of the blankness of everything—the cold steel emotionlessness and lack of detail that made up the interior of most of the Tower. There was such a vacant air about the place—like it was waiting overnight to fill up suddenly with an army of razor-talon'd ninjas or some other fluff. I couldn't help but wonder what citizens outside the Tower imagined was on the inside—

Suddenly, I snickered, breathily.

**I** was once one such 'citizen', to put it lightly. What did I once think was inside the Tower? Truth be told, I didn't really imagine much of anything—I don't think I really even cared. I had my heart and mind busy with so many other details in those lonely times—some trivial, others riveting.

Maybe it wasn't much of a stretch to extend my indifference to those comprising the rest of the City's populace at the time. And it wasn't so much a bad thing—an apathetic thing, but much rather a matter of faith; people didn't bother to know what was in the Tower because they had full assurance that whatever resources could be found within, the Titans were using it towards competently benevolent means.

Still—I mean—there had to be the random fan-psycho who wanted nothing more than to take pictures and various photographs of the setting inside the place. I knew that would never happen, of course. Robin made it clear to everyone since Day One (long before I had joined) that the Tower was not going to be a centerpiece of public relation. Tours—for instance—were expressively forbidden, at least for the time being.

That was probably just as well—of course—for I sure as Heck didn't want anyone near my bedroom, anyone I didn't trust at least. I didn't have anything in there worth hiding (not yet, anyway), but it felt like I deserved at least a modicum of respect in maintaining its privacy. I wouldn't massacre anyone who violated that—not like Raven apparently would, though I had yet to cross her in that legendarily vicious department. Ironically, Beast Boy appeared ignorant of the invisible lines of necessary demarcation when it came to privacy, as he had invaded my abode on at least two separate occasions, and—

……_wait, why did Cyborg recruit me in the middle of the night for sick duty and not __**Beast Boy**__?_

I sighed, slumped down to my fanny on the floor, and rested my forearms on my propped-up knees.

_I'm still the noobie. Yeesh. Wasn't the tutu and unicycle enough? Or did I just traumatizingly dream all that up? I remember faintly the smell of lavender……_

A moaning sound.

I bit my lip and glanced to the bathroom door on my left.

_Poor Raven. I wonder if she ever went through an initiation. I doubt it; every Titan knows that she and Robin were the first ones to form the team._

I bent over further and examined my toes against the gray-blue floor.

_I wonder if it doesn't work the way I've always thought? Is Cyborg really the second-in-command? Cuz sometimes—I swear—Raven has more of a say in the functions of the Titans than he does. Maybe she does indeed have an intellectual uber-authority, but Cyborg's direct command is more practical, forceful, and down-to-earth. Or maybe I'm overanalyzing things._

I sighed, leaned back against the wall again, and shut my black eyes momentarily.

_Still, if she deserves such authority, she certainly doesn't seem ready to use it. I know nothing about the sort of stuff she's been through—or Robin, for that matter. In fact, all of the Titans are up to speculation, for all I'm concerned. But Raven exhibits something darker and grittier than the others, in her own feminine way. I almost think—_

A retching, **big** time.

_--Yeah—I almost think she's somehow gone through more crap than the rest of us. I mean, it would explain a lot. That sort of a thing is not what you're meant to approach, not meant to rip up from underneath the surface. Some sleeping beauties—sneezing beauties even—are best left to lie. I think that's why Robin silently deigns to her opinion so much, and Cyborg doesn't challenge her, and Starfire gives her space, and Beast Boy…………_

_Eh, we all love a suicidal, green elf._

I smiled.

_Even when it's midnight and I'm suddenly haloing a vomitous sorceress with a stone in her forehead. Which reminds me, Beast Boy's been talking about tossing a baseball around. I meant it when I told him I'd join him with some batting practice—but—one's gotta ask how he takes the time to get good at any sport other than polo. Heh._

I raised a hand and tossed a few tangled strands of black hair up and out from my brow, exhaling sharply.

_Why did I ever grow it long? I'd like to say it was laziness, but someone managing hair this long can't possibly be called 'lazy'. 'Crazy' is more like it. Speaking of which, I wonder what Robin's hair would look like when it's not all…………cow-licked to Hell. That's what they're called, right? Cow-licks? At least, that's what my father called them._

My lingering smile left me.

_Ah Hell, moving on……_

I never told anyone, but I had seen Cyborg with hair before. It was the second weekend after I joined—_I think_—which wasn't all that long before then. It was a thin forest of curls he had cultivated; his excuse was that a week-long experiment to turbo-boost the T-Car had isolated him to his laboratory/bedroom and he was at a loss to manage his own appearance. Why he got rid of it, I wasn't sure. I mean, I could have guessed: his hair only grew on the 'flesh' part of his skull—_duh_—so it had its fair share of the 'Frederick Douglass' look. But what Cyborg lost in shaving it all off was more than just an aesthetic nuisance—and that was where I don't think he gave himself much credit, or at least what was left of himself. The fact that any part of his mangled body succeeded in _growing_ beyond his limitations was a miracle in and of itself. If even he didn't realize it then, I could only hope that one day he'd truly, fully grasp it.

_What should I pointlessly focus on now? Starfire's midriff? Beast Boy's fading freckles? Oh, he has freckles alright. Or he once had them—back when he was obviously something other than green. Heh, I wonder if he's been African American all this time and nobody's given it two cents. Anyways, back to Starfire's midriff—_

**SCHWOOSH!**

I looked aside.

A disheveled, twice-pale, blue headed creature with sunken eyes slithered out under a cowl of white bedsheets, looked my way, (!)_gasped(!)_, and shot straight back into the ladies' room in a blur.

**SCH-SCHWOOSH!**

"…………"

_Huh…….._

The sound of a faucet. A coughing. A shuffling. The faucet switched off. A breath of a pause, then once more:

**SCHWOOSH!**

Raven re-emerged, staring invalidically at me. Her hair had been straightened, magically, to an order of twenty-percent more cleanliness, and her sniffling face now hid its sheeny self under the protective shade of her bedsheethood.

"………what are you doing here?"

I shrugged.

"………where's Cyborg?"

I shrugged.

"………nnngh……are you my hospice now?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"I can't believe he ditched me…," she moaned, teetered, and hobbled out. "Okay, I can believe that Cyborg ditched me, but then to go and—" Her dead-eyes widened as her body shot once and she nearly urped—

I didn't know whether to flinch towards or away from her……

She quickly recovered, as I did my twitching lungs. "I……I-I just need to get to my room. Then you'll be free of whatever miserable task he set you to."

I shrugged yet again, smiling innocently. Standing up—fully awake now, actually—I sauntered over to her and offered a gentlemanly hand.

"Thank you, Noir. But even Cyborg would know that I'm perfectly capable of—_Dah! Azar--!"_ She tripped. I caught her forearm and held her straight. "No, s-seriously…" She swallowed questionable matter down her throat and barely managed a whisper: "I'm probably very—KAFF—contag-…contag-………ah never mind."

I sweatdropped, hid it, and helped her along—

"This way."

--_right._

"Nnngh……I can survive demonic possessions, telepathic mind control, interdimensional empathic persuasion—and yet bronchitis is ever the straw that breaks my veritable camelback. Hooray for irony……" Her rolling sarcasm, coupled with her drowning lungs, had become a virtual sea-tossed-yacht. And her legs showed it, barely keeping her standing straight as the two of us helped her crookedly hobble down the long, long, blue hallway—

_Holy gingersnaps—Seriously? Silk blue pajamas—(?)_

"Noir?"

_Ahem._

I looked diligently at her.

"………you have my every permission to kill Cyborg for this."

I smiled and shook a hand to placate her—

"No, no—Not for the base annoyance of having to fill his place—But to allow anyone else to see me in this mode of invalidity is a crime."

I shrugged my shoulders.

She squinted menacingly at me. "I have you know, I can and will snap Cyborg's head off with my soul-self as soon as he returns."

I looked at her. I mouthed: _'Soul self?'_

"Yes it's……well……erhm………………never mind."

She was silent. So I was silent. Together, we mutely plodded a sniffling, hobbling path towards her bedroom. _Damn—Just how far away is it? I thought this floor was below the horizontal stretch of the 'T'. Besides, I can already count the germs crawling off her fingers and onto my knuckles—Well Heck, it isn't really fair to think like that. But still, maybe I should hold my breath a bit. I-I mean, it's not like I'm afraid of her—Erm—afraid of the germs __**on**__ her, I just don't want to end up getting sick and making her feel bad. Cuz girls do that enough as it is to themselves, anyways—Tragically blaming themselves for one situation or another, right? But this is Raven, so nevermind………Wait. __**Wait**__. Is she about to throw up again?_

"Nnnngh……" Raven cradled her head, the 'hood' falling away to reveal her grandiose disheveledness.

I sweatdropped and looked at her, concerned.

She gulped, reeled a bit, and muttered: "I'm o-okay……J-Just can we sit down for a b-bit?"

I nodded. Looked left. Looked right—There, sure enough, was a bench. It was just as plain and metal and lifeless as the rest of the hallway. Go figure. I helped her, one tiny step at a time, over towards the seat. She sat down, very……very slowly, and sighed, hugging the blanket to herself.

I slumped down and sat beside her, exhaling. Twiddling my thumbs. "…………"

Raven sat, staring into space, her head rocking ever so slightly back and forth. "………"

"……………"

"……………"

Raven said nothing.

I couldn't say anything.

She stared and stared……

I adjusted my shades, shifted where I sat, and remained still—silent. For the next couple of minutes.

"……………"

"…………"

"……………"

"…………"

I whistled ever so slightly, twiddled my thumbs even more, even resorted to making little black smoke-trails in the air with my index finger, anything to pass the lurching, dark night-seconds by as we sat there, alone and separate, in the middle of no-man's land.

Until—almost thunderously—Raven's quiet little lamb voice finally rolled: "Baby's bane."

I blinked. I gave Raven a curious, confused side-glance.

"That's what my mother used to always call it……" Raven urped, recovered, and rambled forward: "'Baby's Bane'……"

Still, I was confuzzled.

"Nnnngh…" She rubbed her squinting eyes and leaned her blue head back against the cold metal wall. "I know it sounds dark, but th-that's the twist of……Azarathian lifestyle. To die—or to expire—was symbolically compared to be-becoming a baby again: infirmed, crawling about, incontinent and dumb." She urped, bit her lip, and whispered: "Nevermind the 'dumb' part……"

I didn't take it personally.

"So……Whenever I got sick, and my mother happened to be there, she mixed me this herbal blend and applied it to my forehead. 'Baby's Bane', she called it……to keep me from regressing into something th-that could die so incredibly easily. Mmmmfnngh………not all babies are innocent creatures, in this world, the past, or the next……"

I scratched my head at that, but smiled regardless.

"She b-barely had a chance to s-see me……on a regular basis……" Raven murmured, her eyes growing thinner, her fingers loosening in their grip to the sheet draped over her. A cough, a sputter, then: "There were tons and tons of……s-servants, and clerics………the spiritual maidens of Azar……mmnngh……so much, like a wall of blood, bone, and belief—always entrenching me……I grew to respect it. H-How could I not? It was all there was……"

I bit my lip. I thought of interrupting her. But I didn't know where she was going with any of this. I never once doubted Raven's abilities to control her mind, and the words that spewed out of it……

"Nnnngh………whatever," a dry stone spat out from her, metaphorically speaking. The bitterness came and went with a passing, moist sigh. She sniffled and coughed and added: "Family is family, no matter what form. Though……th-though one couldn't h-help but ask for someone……someone different………someone out of the ordinary……someone who could be trusted and feared all the same…………mmmf……ngh……someone like………someone like………like………"

Silence.

I blinked.

_Like what?_

There was a light weight suddenly pressing against my left shoulder. I glanced down and realized that Raven had passed out. Peacefully. Her sickly form relaxed in waves, gradually rising and falling with raspy but very—very—tranquil breaths. Her lips remained pursed, like porcelain, and not all the earthquakes in the world could shatter her out of it.

_Hmmmmmmm_……

I measured my circumstances, my possibilities. I glanced down the hallway, eyeing the distance from where we resided to the unmistakable door of her bedroom. I cleared my throat, turned, and tightly gripped her shoulder—ready to shake her awake.

But I stopped just short of it……

"………"

_Nah……._

My firm hand angled itself into a gentle support at the small of her back as I stood up, shifted her weight, and slowly—cautiously—picked her up in both arms. One ginger step at a time, I carried Raven down the dark hallway to her room. I nudged the console with my knee, and the door slid open with a quiet _swish_.

Too swift to be brave—_or to even consider the whole thing as 'brave'_—I marched forward into her dark dwelling, found a really freakin' big bed in the middle of it all, and quickly laid her down in the center of the thing. A tangle of bedsheets and tissues told of the troubling night she had experienced hours previous: under Cyborg's intermittent ministrations, no doubt.

I took one last second to take one last glance and take one last notice of—nothing—which was a good thing, for that nothing quite peacefully comprised itself of even breaths, still limbs, and all the other signs of graceful, feminine slumber. Or whatever—I gently drew a duvet over the warm she-creature and turned around.

I paused, suddenly noticing in the gentle moonlight of that room all the various, sharp, jagged gothic things surrounding me. With a touch of urgency rather than fear, I bolted out of there, spun around in a smoking blur, and slapped the wall console.

**Swish!**

I was out.

I exhaled. Beat my chest—_Nope. No infection, at least not now._ My throat felt fine, my nose, mouth—spirit.

A smile.

_Her hair; it felt like silk…….ice silk._

I blinked.

_Why the Hell am I smiling?_

Shaking my head, I sighed and marched towards the elevator, taking it _up_ and not down.

I couldn't friggin' sleep then.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Imagine my surprise when I ascended up into the Main Room and found Cyborg, of all people, nestled in the kitchen unit. He leaned over a few jars and loaves of bread and waved at me. "Ah, there you are! How's Raven doing?"

I yawned, marched towards him, and hand-signed in the gentle refrigerator light. _'She got it out of her system. She is sleeping in her room now.'_

"Well alright! She got her walking legs back, huh? That's a good girl."

'_No, I had to carry her.'_

He blinked at me. "Carry her?"

I nodded.

"Uhm—Where?"

'_Where else? To her room.'_

"YOU WENT INTO HER ROOM?"

I all but recoiled, black eyes wide under my shades. I meekly nodded.

"INTO HER ROOM……" Cyborg's jaw dropped incredulously. "You went……INTO RAVEN'S ROOM……and you're still standing?"

I gulped, bit my lip, and shrugged this time.

"………well, dayum……," Cyborg gazed off into the distance, blinking. "Who'd a'thunk it?"

I glanced at his midnight snack, then up at him. I hand-signed: _'You are back from P-H-A-S-E-R already?'_

"Nah, I haven't gone yet."

I reeled.

"Thought I'd make a sandwich first."

_Why you sonuva—_

"Snkkkkt-heheheheheheheh!"

I snickered and leaned on the kitchen counter for support.

"Hah hah hah hah!"

_Ohhhhhhh……_

_I think one of us is going to end up sick._


	2. Chapter 2

**This takes place right after the previous chapter--still between HIVE at the Opera and Bad Publicity. It gives more setup to 'Phaser Labs' and has plenty of Cyborg-Noir moments. Writing Noir and Cyborg makes me think a lot of chatting with LB. I don't know why, maybe because LB's black and I'm castrated. Or maybe the other way around. Or maybe neither. Oh yeah, and ebil rabbits.**

* * *

It was still in the dead-black mire of early morning that Cyborg and I pulled gently out of the Titans' garage and cruised out across the land strip leading north into the City. The android driver in question had all his gizmos equipped upon his metallic person, and I was in full costume too. Considering where we were headed, it didn't seem that bad an idea.

"You didn't have to come with me, Noir," he said, turning the wheel and angling the T-Car towards the West Central District of the City. "You're more than welcome to go back to sleep, ya know. I just needed you for that one thang……believe it or not."

I shrugged, not remotely yawning, not remotely groaning, just awake and……bored to tears. So once Cyborg had finished his sandwich and it was time for him to head to PHASER Labs, I agreed on an absurd whim to join him. I sat in the passenger's seat, comfortable in the full-blast of the air conditioning, and watched the dark shades of the City breeze by the window.

_Yeah, this ain't bad._

"Let's just hope the Titans don't contract bubonic plague while we're gone," he took us on a straightaway; there was hardly any traffic in sight. "Do you know how much sleep I've gotten in the past week?"

I hand-signed.

"Okay—By ***my*** definition of sleep, guess."

I shrugged.

"Seven total hours, dude. Oh, I've counted! I can't help but count! I've got an onboard chronometer in my head!"

I gestured towards him.

He glanced aside and smirked. "No," he replied. "It doesn't get in the way of dreaming."

I raised a curious eyebrow at him and inquired something with my moving hands.

"Hell yeah, I dream! You think because I'm half-human-half-toll-booth I can't trounce on Freud's domain? Why, just the other night I had one where Nichelle Nichols, Halle Berry and I were windsailing at Metropolis' Beach and--……aw shoot. Maybe I better not tell you that one."

I snickered.

He smirked evilly my way. "What? You gonna tell me you don't have PG-13 rated dreams yourself?"

I bit my lip. Motionlessness…….

After the 'silence', Cyborg belched a good manly roar and leaned a casual arm out the window while driving with one hand. "Ahhhhhh yeah. I like mornings like these. I bet you do too."

I shrugged.

"No, syriously, dawg. You know BB and I constantly see you waltzing out in the wee morning hours to do your routine meditation bit. That can't just be for the sake of controlling your power, can it? You gotta be an early morning dude."

I smirked and looked at him, humored.

"You heard me! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! No wonder Robin was so quick to induct you." A pause. He winced. "Okay, both you and I know that ain't true."

I chuckled breathily.

"Heheheheh……Tsssk…..Man. I just can't get over it."

Curiously, I glanced at him.

"Raven let you walk into _her room!_ The first time B.B. and I did that unannounced, we nearly had our heads lopped off by a bipolar statue with broadswords."

A blink answered him.

"Yeah……if that don't beat all."

I hand-signed.

"You're saying she was unconscious the whole time?" He incredulously replied. "Yeesh, I told you to watch over Raven as she went all pepperoni pizza on the toilet, not tranquilize her like a giraffe!"

A frown.

"Hah! Just joking, Noir. Chill. It's no big deal, just—Raven's usually not one to shatter her own golden commandments, yanno? I guess the sickness must be messin' with her…….uhhhh….chi?"

I scratched my head. _Whatever._

"Whatever."

_Yeah……_

"Did I mention that you did a really kick-butt job at Westhaven the night before last?"

I smirked ever so slightly.

"Heh, don't be modest, dawg. You, me and BB? We were runnin' on fumes, pal! It's hard enough as it is keeping Killer Moth's bugs at bay with all five—er—SIX of the Titans, much less only three of us! Nobody could have expected Jinx to pull that trick she did either. If there's anything I hate more than one psychopathic group of jerks making life miserable for other people, it's one of those jerks suddenly pulling a trick that goes against the entire playbook from round one. Total selfishness, you know? I mean, what did that pink-haired witch have that was so precious to betray her very own partners for?"

I fidgeted, staring intently out the window.

"Whatever……I shouldn't be playing devil's advocate, I guess. Capturing two out of three H.I.V.E. members is a good score in my book. Gizmo's been behind bars before—But both him AND Mammoth? Now that's a score! Heh, if Robin will have anything to do with it, we could get some valuable information out of interrogating them both! As soon as the Boy Wonder's done coughing up snot—that is—he's likely to jump to it."

He smirked and looked my way.

"You should go to one of his interrogation sessions. It's quite invigorating to see a wing of the Bat go at it against an unlucky soul."

I bit my lip.

"Pfft—HA! No, it ain't none of that Guantanamo crap—Believe what you will. Er……you know what I mean. Where was I?"

I hand-signed.

"RIGHT! Anyways, you should be up for a medal or something. No joke! Just putting up with B.B. alone for three solid days is a Herculean accomplishment!"

I couldn't help it. I smirked.

"That elf may be loose around the edges, but he's got a true blue hero's blood nestled deep inside. He, just like all of us, understands the importance of being ever cautious, ever vigilant, ever—Whoah dayum! Hang on!" Cyborg gritted his teeth and swerved the car towards a vehicle pulling up to a pawn shop window at our right.

I gripped tightly to the Jesus bar, my heartbeat skyrocketing.

**SCREEEECH!** Cyborg slammed us to a stop, flew his window down in a motorized blink, and aimed a sonic arm-cannon straight out. _Cl-Cl-Cl-Clak! Vriiiii!_ "HEY! YO PUNKS! FREEZE! DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A DRIVE THRU TO YOU---?"

The men aside the parked truck shouted something back.

"……WHAT?" Cyborg replied.

I craned my neck, confused, trying to hear—

"Oh shoot! M-My bad!" Cyborg returned his hand to normal and rolled the window up with a furious blush. "Carry on with what you're doing, gentlemen! Sorry to bother you!" He drove us slowly around the truck.

I saw it as we passed by, grinned like crazy, and looked at Cyborg, gesturing: _'Was that what I thought it was?'_

"Yeah yeah……" he griped. "It was a garbage truck."

I collapsed, sprawled all over my seat, letting loose explosively mute bellows of laughter.

"Shut up—Don't pretend like you wouldn't make the same mistake! It's effin' dark outside, dawg!"

I chuckled, my side sore, but managed a hand-sign.

"What?"

I hand-signed again.

"Yup, two of them were black—HEY! _What's that supposed to mean_?"

I chuckled, giggled even.

"Uh uh! It ain't like that! I swear!"

I shook my head, laughing.

"Nuh uh! One of them was Asian! I could see it! In fact, it was the first thing I saw! And _it wasn't profiling_!"

I snickered.

"Shut up! It wasn't! You think I believed they were swooping up bundles of Starcraft? Hell no! They were in a bigass truck parked by a pawn shop, loading crap onto it—SO I HAVEN'T DRIVEN OUT AT NIGHT LIKE THIS LATELY! Dayum!"

_Hahahahahahaha!_

"At least be a little bit supportive. If Robin saw me doing that, and he would have cut me down a ladder rung."

'_Yeah, a glass ladder.'_

"Man, shut up!"

_Hahahahaha……_

"You know what? You can get out of the car right now! You like that? Go fart-sprint your way back home and have more merry adventures in Raven's plague-infested bedroom for all I care!"

_Hehehehehehe………_

"Nnnngh. I need a Dr. Pepper. PHASER Labs' vending machines had better be full."

'_Maybe we can run into the recycling truck.'_

"Okay—Seriously. Go sit on Myrkstaff and rotate.'

'_Myrkblade'._

"Whatever, smart-aleck. Yeesh…….heheheh…"

I could never get enough of Cyborg…….

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

PHASER Labs was a two-to-three story, unassuming plateau of a building—easily dwarfed by the more popular STAR Labs facility nestled on the far side of town. What the Titans saw that made them more attuned to the facilities at PHASER Labs over STAR—I would take a while to figure out, but it was all good. The building had a very old-fashioned, homely feel to it—like it was built in the seventies, the era where all good-bad public school textbooks originate. A brick foundation framed the thing, and it was sandwiched alongside two large office complexes and the southbound overpass of the City Highway. The roar of cars accompanied Cyborg and I as we hopped out of the T-Car, approached the front entrance, and used a keycard to enter. A lone security guard at the front desk greeted us with an elderly smile and escorted us to a basement laboratory, where a scraggily shaved thirty-something geek grinned wildly and uttered:

"Almost done!"

Cyborg blinked his one human eye. "_Almost_ done? But I thought you said over the phone—"

"The analysis was complete by our standards, but then I remembered Robin's tendency to run an isotopic test on all of his evidence even long after we've had our hands on them."

"Why would our team leader want an isotopic test on the residue found on stolen bank heist cars?"

"I recall asking him that very same question a month ago!"

"Oh? And what was his response a month ago?"

"'I'm a sixteen year old kid in tights giving you scientific directions. Why're you having second thoughts this far into it'?"

"Heh, that sounds more like Raven than Robin."

"Oh? Which is the 'bird' with the yellow cape on her back?"

"……..snkkkkt…eheheheheh…"

"Uhhh…Mister Cyborg? I'm sorry—did I say something amiss?"

"Heh, not at all dude. Take as long as you want to do your test—"

"Oh, not that long at this rate. About an hour, to be exact. Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to come by for this stuff until daylight hours. But—heheheh—I guess you Titans really do work around the clock! Heheh! Like me! Heheheheh!"

"Yeah……just like good 'ol hairy you……"

"Would you like to see the results so far?"

"Is it all on that clipboard?"

"I made you a digital copy as well. Can't you load it into your mainframe?"

"Oh no no no no no no no thanks. Heh…..no offense to you and all, but, for me, that's like jamming a needle into the arm. Never a good thing on a first date. I think I'll settle with what my eyes can see."

"Oh, by all means!" The scientist handed the data to the second-in-command. A coffee-induced twitch in my direction, and then he uttered: "Say, who're you?"

Cyborg and I glanced at each other.

_Wildcard?_

"He….uh….," Cyborg turned and smiled back at the scientist. "Call him Diesel, my bodyguard."

"……really?"

"Nah, but he sure does produce enough exhaust."

I made a face at my companion.

"Oh, Zephyrus alive!" the scientist squawked, clutching his stubbly face. "H-He's the new Titan, isn't he? The one who zips around a lot and makes like Gray Fox on LSD?"

I did a double-take at him.

"Yeah, go crawl back to your little station and make irradiated gerbils cry," Cyborg gestured with one hand before flipping through the clipboard. "We've got to prepare some boring info for our boring leader's boring research."

"Well, I sure did my best. The rest is in your hand," saluted the scientist. "But in case you get bored while waiting for the next hour….."

"….we won't."

"--….there's a chess table over in the corner."

Cyborg and I looked up.

"A chess table?" Cyborg asked.

"Yup!"

"……." Cyborg looked at me.

"……." I looked at him.

After a pause, we both smiled and shook our heads.

"Nah."

_Forget it._

Cyborg flipped a page on the clipboard strip. I twiddled my thumbs…..

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg moved a white pawn two spaces in front of his rook, then folded his hands together while leaning forward. "Let's see you get past my impenetrable meat shield, William Wallace!"

_Hmmmmm_

I sat opposite him, staring at my black pieces scattered about his ivories. I flexed my fingers, thinking hard……_hard._

"Just take it easy……" a corner of his half-metal face curved. "You're stressing out more than Beast Boy at checkers."

I frowned.

_Don't tell me how to play or not play……_

I blinked.

_Beast Boy plays checkers?_

"Whatever you do, just keep the pieces in good shape!" the scientist uttered uber-cheerfully from the corner where he……er….turned dials or something. "We'd lose our minds in this stuffy basement if it weren't for that table! Haha!"

"Oh, we'll be sure not to let the cavalry trample them to shattered pieces, Mister….Mister…." Cyborg rasped—then blinked over his shoulder. "What's your name anyways?"

"Heheh—Doctor Ray will do just fine!"

"I like to say I've heard that somewhere before but my mother told me that lying was a sin," Cyborg moved a piece. "Checkmate."

I spazzed—

"HA! Just kidding."

I fumed, relaxed, and moved a black knight past a few pawns to advance on his rook and bishop. I then hand-signed: _'I hope you play fair.'_

"You bet I do. You're just so fun to fluster."

I rolled my black eyes, adjusted my shades, and motioned for him to make his move.

He took his time, squinting one eye and leaning over as if to survey the 'battlefield' from up close. "The way I see it, you can learn a lot from someone when you play them at chess. Take Robin, for instance. You'd think he'd be the most perfect tactician, patient and such. But that ain't the case twenty-four-seven. He makes too many bold moves. Not impulsive, just bold—and they cost him deeply from time to time. He's a daredevil at heart, whether he's swinging from grappling hooks or shoving his queen across the checkerboard." He moved his rook to intercept the path of one of my pawns.

I glanced back and forth from his rook to his bishop, and eyed the potential paths of my knight, all the while itchingly considering the line of pawns rushed up against him.

"Raven—Now there's a great player. She's more patient than Mt. Fuji settling into the Pacific. If a game has to last an hour longer than you can stand, she'll push it to that length just to make you go insane and toss in the towel. I guess there's just something about that girl that makes her think she can outlast the apocalypse if she has to."

I shrugged, picked up my leftmost pawn—but paused. "………." I returned it back to its original spot and thought it over……

Cyborg smirked. "You're playing a little bit like Starfire right now."

I glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow above my shades.

"So uncertain, so cautious, so nervous—even."

I sarcastically grinned and gestured: _'You think I am scared?'_

"Heheheh—You think that _I think_ that Starfire is 'scared' easily?"

'_Is that not what you are saying?'_

"What I am trying to say—To _convey………_," Cyborg leaned back with his metal arms behind his neck. "….Is that she's one to always think twice. I think that also works with you—"

I slaughtered his bishop suddenly with my queen.

"…….ahem."

I smirked. It was my turn to lean back, my arms behind my back.

"Okay. So you're a little bit like Beast Boy."

'_How does he play?'_

"Like an anarchist."

_Heh_

He moved his rook again—defensively this time. A lick of his titanium lips, and: "Just don't get too hungry."

I gave him a wounded expression. I moved my middle pawn up a space.

"Don't deny it! You too get greedy! I saw you going after Control Freak when he was whisking Robin away! You were like a bat out of Hell! Or a bat looking for Hell—one or the other……"

"_You're reaching!"_

"Pffft—Shut up, **Ray!** Who gave you permission to un-discovery-channel yourself from all the way over there?"

"_Listening to you two is a riot."_

"What do you mean 'you two'? I'm the only one speaking, punk!"

"_You and I both know that isn't true! Ha ha!"_

Cyborg motioned aside like a dead comedian adjusting his necktie. "You get the nerve of this guy?"

I smirked and gestured him, impatiently, to move.

"Fine—FINE!" He picked up his rook and blocked my pawn. "Mister Man-of-the-People! Don't deny it, you have this incessant need to defend others..."

I hand-signed.

"Heroism aside….," Cyborg waved and watched my twitching fingers across the board. "….you're a good support man. It's more than just Robin telling you to do something and you doing it—But I think the Titans are gonna find you to be someone good to rely on. Don't ask me how I know that, I can just breathe it."

I glanced at him curiously and moved my bishop out into the open.

"Not that I'm trying to put you on the spot or anything—But when you've been with the Titans long enough, you get to notice things. Especially when a rookie joins." He met my bishop with his infamous rook and leaned forward, grinning. "Like when you're holding a bluff."

I gave him a wyrd face, then hand-signed. _'How can someone bluff at chess?'_

"Hey, in this crazy world of ours, how can you NOT hide a superior intellect!"

'_Are you trying to flatter me out of my concentration?'_ I cautiously slid my bishop away from his castle.

He advanced a pawn. "Now, that just isn't my style! B.B.'s, maybe."

My bishop resumed its limbo of a tango. _'And Robin?'_

"He's always to the point. His imperfections are merely marks of character. You know what I mean?"

I shook my head. _'Then how come he is leader?'_

He smiled in thought before sliding his rook forward to interrupt the movement of my bishop. "Cuz he of all people should understand the nature of a risk."

I smiled and gestured: _'That is a good quality to have, Cyborg.'_ And I promptly killed his first rook off with a hidden Queen

Cyborg's human eye bulged. "Dnngh…….you….what…….I…..DAAH! MY ROOK! NOOOO! MY ROOK!"

I chuckled breathily. _So did Ray in the corner._

"Whyyyyy! He was such a good soldier!" he wailed dramatically and all but hung off his chair. I was almost afraid the table would be knocked over. "He always wrote home to his mother! He abstained from the face-painted girls in the harbor! Why-Why-WHY?"

I held a hand over my lips and bent over. My sides hurt.

"_What now, Mister Strategist?"_

"You hush!" Cyborg faced me, glanced over his collapsed rook with incredulity, and nearly died of an epileptic fit. "I……it….er….that…." He stood up out of his chair. "**TWINKY**!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg grabbed a handful of yellow, plastic-wrapped snacks from the shelf and marched towards the checkout counter of the convenience store across the street from PHASER Labs. I stood with him in line as stereotypical 80s muzak droned overhead.

"Always good thought-fuel," the Titan waved the edibles in question and gave me a faux glare. "You are so going down when we return to the game."

I smirked……and smirked……………..and smirked…..

"Heh, yeah—You keep that up! Cuz I'm going to enjoy all seven senses it takes to wipe it clean off your cranium! Not every sport is a card game, dawg. You can't whip out a wildcard all the time!"

I shrugged. I glanced to the side, reached over, and grabbed a Dr. Pepper…..

"Take Robin, for instance," Cyborg juggled a few twinkies, caught them, and pointed with emphasis: "Now there's a kid who grew up in the crime-fighting business, met his odds, and realized—at some point—that he would run out of options."

I wondered how Cyborg knew that….

"Because he formed a _team_, dawg! Doesn't that explain it?"

I always had imagined that crime-fighting teams solely assembled for the sake of the common good……

"Of course we all wanna protect the innocent and whatnot, but in a perfect world we could all do that on our own. Only, there are inevitable gaps in our finesse—The unfailing opportunity to make errors. You dig?"

…….

"So, peops like Robin—who are badasses all in their own right—take the humble step of inviting tactful neighbors into their flocks so as to cover for each other's inadequacies! That's what makes the Titans so kick-butt. We fight not just crime, but our own habitual fumblings! We're there for each other, dawg! It's just so poetic, so….so….You fill in the blank!"

_How?_

"And lemme tell you what, three's a way safer crowd than just two teammates. So the fact that the Titans are numbering six is more than perfect. You know why?"

I looked at him blankly.

Cyborg smirked. "Because when there are only two people, it can be just as messed up as one. Only one person can win a chess game, right?"

I smirked.

"—Or do you know something I don't know, Noir?"

I smirked even more.

"Nnngh….mrmmmffgh….yeah…," he gave me a sportsmanlike scowl and pointed threateningly. "THAT…………..Coming RIGHT off!"

I snickered breathily.

The line moved up and Cyborg stood at the counter. The clerk was a frail-little-blonde thing, a spectacle'd girl trying to hide her Advanced Algebra homework under the cash wrap. "Uhm….oh w-wow…." At sight of Cyborg, she fidgeted and toyed her fingers together. "I never th-thought I'd……I'd…."

"I know," Cyborg nodded. "I'm Batman."

She giggled.

"This will be all," he dumped the twinkies onto the counter, paused, and sweatdropped: "Er….n-not that it means anything to me more than my corporate sponsor—REMEMBER KIDS! EAT YOUR KEYSTONE PUFFS! THEY'RE PART OF A NUTRITIOUS BREAKFAST!"

She giggled and rang him up.

Cyborg smiled. "You alone here this evening?"

"Erm….y-yeah," she glanced around the store like a cornered rabbit. "It isn't as bad as you w-would think, though."

"Well, we're across the street. Just holler if a giant alien sludgeball tries to eat the stockroom or something."

"Uh….s-sure thing, Mr. Cyborg!"

"Or you could always try shouting 'Fire!'" Cyborg popped open a 'change compartment' in his forearm and produced a few reserve dollar bills. "You'd be amazed the number of people who respond to a fire alarm more than any other cry of distress."

"Wow……did the Boy Wonder teach you that?"

"Nah, John Walsh," Cyborg winked. "Keep the change."

"Oh, s-sure thing, Mr. Titan," she blushed and giggled. "You take care now!"

"Will do! Heheheh—'BOO-YA'!"

"Eeeee!" She clapped, giggled, and turned to me as I walked up to the counter with my soda. "And how can I help you, sir?"

I sighed…

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg popped a twinky into his mouth, chewed, and slapped his last rook forward. "Go forth and do battle, my precious!"

"_There's something wrong with the test rabbit……,"_ Dr. Ray murmured in the background, bent over a glowing cage.

"Maybe she's tired of you flirting with her!" Cyborg mouthed.

"_Hah hah! Good one, Mr. Automaton!"_

Cyborg gestured stupidly at the scientist and looked tyredly at me.

I smiled and moved my last bishop towards his advancing rook.

"You got something against a brother's castles, Noir?"

I shook my head in emphasis.

"Cuz I got my eye on you—In all spectrums of visibility, including infrared. And before you say it—No, it ain't cheating. I bet you can do a number on monitoring my pulse and pupil dilation with them smoke powers of yours."

I blinked.

"No?" He seemed let go. "Well, I guess you can't do everything."

I shrugged. _I never said I could……_

"B.B. says that you're too good to be true, though."

'_Oh really?'_

"Heh, yeah," Cyborg moved a pawn forward, chewed on another twinky, and murmured: "But, I swear, that 'lil grass stain worships everyone at one point or another."

My finger pointed curiously at Cyborg.

"HAH! Nah, man. He stopped believing I was better than him almost a year ago. I don't think it ever was that ideal to begin with, truth be told."

My pawn advanced straight past his. There was a silent pause for a while. Then…….

"Pssst…hey…..Noir…."

I looked tyredly at him.

"Who do you suppose Robin is underneath the mask?"

My black eyes twitched. I glanced right—at empty laboratory space. I glanced left—at the distant Ray and his little cage. I looked back at Cyborg and gestured crazily….

"What? Don't make it sound like it's some big deal!" the titanium Titan smirked. "It's a perfectly normal inquiry that every Titan has formulated since the beginning of—well—all beginnings! And everyone knows that nobody will ever get it right anyways, so what's the harm?"

"_I swear, this rabbit is foaming at the mouth……"_

I gulped and hand-signed Cyborg's way.

"We'll get to what I think soon enough. You wanna know what Raven thinks?"

'_What?'_

"She positively _swears_ that for Robin to be such a hardas—welll……such a _convicted believer_ in absolute justice, he must be some sort of cleric in real life—or a pupil to some sort of zealot. Can you imagine? Robin as a choir boy? Ha!"

I hand-signed.

"That's what I said! 'Batman is no priest'! So, Starfire dips in and goes on this huge, sentimental tirade about Robin being this badly maligned youngster living on the streets somewhere and now he's attempting to bring justice to the world—not in bitter vengeance, but in righteous salvation."

I shook my head.

"You don't buy it?"

I hand-signed: _'Nobody 'from the streets' could possibly have all the gadgets that Robin does.'_

"Exactly! He's gotta be one rich kid! I mean…..like a playboy or something! Heh—That's my hypothesis, at least. A royal pain in the banker's necks who also happens to be a crime fighter."

I folded my arms.

"Erm…..are we not on the same page?"

I hand-signed: _'Robin cannot be a philanthropist.'_

"Then what is he?"

'_He is an inheritor. Is it not obvious?'_

"……..you mean, he's a spoiled brat?"

I nearly spat. I covered my lips and chuckled breathily.

Cyborg smirked. "How wonderfully cruel of you, Noir! Surely Robin's ego needs more of a lift than that!"

I hand-signed.

"Oh, it matters a whole lot! Cuz the more we speculate, the more we find things to embarrass Robin about."

Gestures……hand-movements.

"No, it is NOT my ultimate goal to get Robin to look silly! However, it *is* my ultimate goal to see you crawl on your knees in chess-filled defeat tonight! So have at it!"

I blinked.

"It's your move, dawg!"

I moved my finger—

From the corner: _"Oh crap oh crap oh crap—I knew I fed him too much!"_

Cyborg swiveled and sighed. "For the love of all that's good and tranquil, Doc! What's with all the—WHOAH DAYUM!"

_**HRESHHHHH!!!**_ A giant, spike-backed rabbit suddenly burst through the metal frames of the cage and soared across the laboratory space with a blood-wreaking cry.

I fell back in my chair, the rabid rodent barely soaring past my upended legs. Cyborg lept up and unloaded his sonic cannon. "DOWN, HARVEY!" _**ZAAAAAAAAP!**_ The rabbit deflected the blast, spun about, and leapt at him. "HOLY—" **THUNK!** The hellish snowball slammed the android against the wall and was repeatedly pounding his half-human skull against a flood of electrical conduits. CONG! CONG! CONG!

"I am so sorry, Mister Cyborg!" Doc Ray stumbled over, wielding a stool over his head and trying to hit the creature—hitting Cyborg every other swing instead. "Just hold still and I'll—"

"DAMN IT WE GOT THIS THANG!" Cyborg gritted his teeth and finally pried the rabbit off him.

"**HRESSSSSSHAAAA!"** the red-eyed demon thing hissed. Its incisors grew an extra, serrated inch and it leapt. _SWOOOOOSH!—_

**WHACK!** I blurred into it, swinging Myrkblade hard.

The screaming rabbit flew off, landed through a tray full of chemicals, and started a blazing housefire as it hopped about in smoking insanity across the floor. "_**HRESSSH! HRESSH! HRESSH!"**_

I marched towards it, fuming, lowering Myrkblade. _Maybe if I can calm it down—_

**FWOOOOSH!** The rabbit—now on fire—soared towards my skull. It gripped my head and its teeth bit onto my shades.

_Fudge!_

I grabbed the scruff of its spined neck with one hand and beat it senselessly in the back of the skull with the hilt of Myrkblade. _**WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!**_ It belatedly dawned upon me that the damn little furball was on fire, and now my jacket was going up in flames.

_Nnnngh!_

I tossed the creature off me, threw my camouflage coat to the floor and stomped the flames out—

_**WHAM!**_ The rabbit drop kicked me to the tile. I tumbled amidst a halo of flames as the chemical fire built up across the laboratory. Thunder rolled. I spun about, panting, and watched helplessly as the demon bunny pattered in my direction—

"**RRRRRRRGH!"** Cyborg ran up from behind, carrying a huge half-ton freezer over his shoulders. He brought the whole thing down onto the rabbit. **THUD!** Again. **THUD!** Again. "NNNNNGH!" **THUDDDD-DDDD!**

Silence…….

Cyborg panted, panted, panted, and finally lifted the freezer he was leaning on. The both of us did a double-take.

The rabbit was still alive. And not only that, it was imploding back into the innocent little shrew it had always been. Its incisors shrunk, its spines retreated, and the blood-red left the beady eyes as it wiggled its nose and skirted past the blazing fires, searching for carrot fragments.

"…….."

"……..well, alright."

"_Oh jeez! Oh jeez!"_ Dr. Ray scrambled all over the place in the background. He fumbled for the intercom, the fire extinguisher, his cell phone—but never quite settled for any single one of them. So, the flames grew higher, the smoke billowing, and the primary alarm going on. "WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo? His experiment wasn't supposed to show changes this early! And I can't let this place go up in flames! OhgodOhgodOhgod—"

"Just calm down…" Cyborg groaned.

"BUT…BUT—"

"CALM DOWN, I SAID!" Cyborg motioned to everyone under the halo of flames. "EVERYONE—JUST CALM DOWN………." He lowered his arms. "Okay, here's what we do….."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg moved his rook two spaces over. "Check."

I scratched my chin. I moved my queen selflessly in the path of his rook.

Cyborg almost took her out, but noticed the trap my knight had sprung for _his_ queen. So he paused….And scratched _his_ chin.

Meanwhile, in the background, a frazzled Ray wandered about with his fire extingsher, giving the burn marks a twice over, even a thrice over.

"You missed a spot…," Cyborg blindly noted.

"Oh….Th-Thank you…" _Pffft! Pfffft! P-Pfft!_

"How're Robin's results coming?"

"Isotopic Readings are eighty-five percent towards completion."

"Just enough time to finish you off for good….," Cyborg murmured my way before retreating his rook back. "God, _that_ sucked."

I smirked. I advanced my queen to sweat his remaining pawns, all of whom were protecting his lonely king.

"You're even worse than Raven. I dunno what's with you two…," he said, his voice quiet now. "Did you exchange tactics while she was vomiting?"

'_Are you going to play or not?'_

"What do you think I've been doing all night, dawg?" Cyborg cackled. An ash-laden console strip fell on his head.

"_Whoops—Lemme get that,"_ Ray reached over and picked it up.

"Thanks, man."

"_No problem—Heheheh!"_

Cyborg moved his king _away_ from my walled-away queen, as if it was allergic. "Still, it was very gentlemanly of you to watch out for her like that."

I pointed obligatorily at him.

"Me? Heh, I'm no gentleman. More like a big brother," Cyborg rapped his fingers rhythmically on the tabletop. "I swear, that's what I feel like to the rest of the team most of the time."

'_Is that a bad thing?'_

"Heh, if you call feeling a tad bit overprotective from time to time 'bad'."

A wry smirk crossed my lips.

"No joke! I know it's stupid; and I know that the likes of Starfire and Raven and BB—well—Starfire and Raven can look after themselves, but sometimes things don't have to make sense when you feel the need to stick a protective shoulder into things."

I shrugged and moved my lead pawn forwards.

"Trying to get promoted?"

I whistled innocently.

"Anyways…," Cyborg fingered several pieces while talking. "Take Starfire, for instance. For a while there, when she first joined us, it was a scary thing. That is to say—she was so new to this homeworld. As strong as she was, she was prime fodder for all sorts of potential calamities. You know what I'm saying?"

I squinted at him.

Cyborg looked over his shoulder, then at me. _"Okay. Let's face it. Starfire's a babe."_

I choked—on nothing—but I choked nonetheless.

"Snkkkt-hah-hah-hah! She is! I know it! You know it! Robin—snkkkt—_Ahem_, anyways. You should have seen her first few outings at the local nightclub. It was like having a Disney Princess at a napalm convention. Not a good combination. And as soon as some of the first few no-good jackals had their oogling jokes thrown in, I decided to cut them down to size. Nowadays, Starfire manages to cut them down to size—But that's how things change over time….and it's never quite the same. Have I lost track of the conversation?"

I whistled.

"Oh, right," he finally made a move. Once again, his rook advanced. "Anyways, long story made short, the longer you're with this team, the more you'll want to look after each other, even to the point of embarrassment. It's just the way things work. Where it'll go from there, I have no clue. But hey, all of us have stuff yet to learn, huh?"

"……."

"…..like how to quit wasting time and end the game already?"

I smiled sarcastically at him. I made one fatal move with my knight—

"HA!" He decimated it with his rook. Immediately.

"….." I blinked.

"Your king ain't so high and mighty now, is he?"

I glanced at the board. I saw the meager few pawns separating my king from his almighty rook, and the very few moves left to bridge the violent distance. In a fit of survival, I moved a second pawn in its path.

He took it out in an instant stroke. "Guess who's coming to dinner! Hahaha!"

"………." I smiled. Before him, I grabbed both my stationary king and my cornered rook at the same time. I crossed their paths so that the two now stood side by side on my edge of the board.

"Whoah! What gives—" Cyborg started, and paused, blinking. "Oh, I get it. 'Castling', huh?"

I smiled nervously. I hand-signed…….

"No……guess it's not an illegal maneuver. All this time you haven't moved either your rook or king, and I haven't checked you yet. Dang it….."

I folded my arms, proud.

"All this time that I was dominating with my rooks, you were holding back. And….And…." He fidgeted. "Aw Hell, this is gonna be a stalemate, isn't it?"

Sure enough, the number of pieces on the board had dwindled down to a scant minimum. In so many few moves, it was more than obvious that nobody would be the obvious victor.

"You _are_ worse than Raven….," Cyborg said. "You don't wait forever just for the opponent to give up. You don't even _want_ to win."

I shrugged. I hand-signed: _'Sometimes the wildcard is not to be wild at all.'_

"……," Cyborg knocked both kings over and smiled. "Like I said about learning things……"

_Heh._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_SCHWISH!_

I limped into my room, suddenly tyred again. After the isotopic readings were completed, Cyborg stayed behind at PHASER to examine the findings and present a case to Robin. Being less robotic myself, I finally succumbed to exhaustion. So just as the morning daylight began to creep in, I submitted to at least one hour of quasi-needed luxury sleep.

I draped my slightly-singed camouflage jacket on the end of a chair and placed Myrkblade on its mantle. I yawned, rubbed my hairy head, and leaned precariously where I stood.

_Eh………sometime soon, I'll get duplicate jackets. Why not? All my teammates have a dozen copies of their outfits……_

That said, I jumped out of my slacks and shirt and into my bed clothes. I stumbled into bed, snickering breathily to my dumb self.

_Heh……'Starfire is a babe'. Sure, why not……?_

And no sooner than twenty milliseconds after I collapsed onto my mattress:

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

"Hey, Noir! It's Beast Boy! Come on! Let's go play ball!"

I groaned mutely into my pillow—memories washing up to me.

"Come on! You promised just last night you would!"

Slowly, achingly, I limped back onto my feet.

_But I didn't promise not to commit strangulation……_


	3. Chapter 3

**This was an attempt at an intravenous arc early in Act One called 'Suffer the Children'. It's unfinished, of course. It stinks, of course. The basic synposis was that I was gonna make my own version of Ding Dong Daddy--basically a pimpin' ghetto Lex Luthor stolen straight out of Blaxpoitation movies. It was gonna feature minimal Noir, early cameos of Commissioner Decker, and deal with Robin considering taking the law into his own hands, a prospect he wouldn't fathom until much later when events drastically change in 'Hand and Dagger'. Nmiaow....faillllllllll.**

* * *

Darren lay in the corner, shriveled up on his twig-thin self, convulsing with each shuddering breath he struggled to make. A good three-days' worth of stubble formed on his young, haggard face, and he drooled—openly, adding to the layers of stains covering the floor of the decrepit apartment stairwell. The half-muted ambiance of sobbing children, domestic shouting matches, and squawking television sets echoed in an oozing curtain of confusion around him, and his twitching eyes darted about—chasing shadows, twice dark, within the forsaken, four-walled alcove where he huddled.

"Nnnght………stthkkttt………j-just another j-j-job……one thing to get up for, one thing to g-get up f-f-for. I will, I will, I will, I will, I will—snnkkkt……one more day—I can do it—j-j-just one more day, I promise, I will, I will, I will, I will-For G-G-God's sake, Marvin, talk to him. He trusts y-you……he always d-d-does. Tell him it's okay. Tell him I will, I will, I will, I will…nnnsktkkk……ngnngh……all th-that I'll get up f-for……like a machine……h-he can trust a machine……he can……I will, I will, I will……"

As he twitched and murmured, a cadence of footsteps lit up along the vertical space of the corridor. Two high-school aged boys in black jackets marched side-by-side down a hallway and poked their head into a door a half-flight of stairs above the prone figure. They shouted something into the room. A sickly voice shouted back. They performed lewd gestures, backed up, and made to move along—when suddenly they both glanced down the steps and saw the lone twitcher. They froze. Half a grin and half a frown—and they shuffled down and crouched around the poor soul.

He scrunched away at them, snot running down from his nostril as his convulsing eyes widened even more. "Fsnkkkt……where……you……T-T-T-To………Marvin?"

"God damn, Darren, just look at you. You're a regular piss stain!" One of them chuckled. He glanced at the other. "You think the boss would have sent the both of us if he knew he'd have OD'd into this sick little puddle we have here?"

"You know what Mister D-Cube says." The second started picking Darren's pants pockets, making a face as he tried to avoid a huge stain emanating from the young man's crotch. "We work better with twice the numbers, half the mouths."

"Is that a hint for me to shut up?"

"I don't care if you sing or croak, but Darren here……" The second paused and stared the twitching individual square in the face. "……I think he's out of a job. And when D-Cube fires you, Darren, you're out on the street."

Darren stared back. Wide-eyed. His lips quivered.

"Yoo hoo?" The young man 'knocked on' Darren's skull. "Anyone there? If so, does he remember what he did with the boss' keys?"

"………snkkkttt……tsnnghhtt……st-street?" Darren's tongue caught up.

"Darren……," the first smirked. "Do you want to piss off D-Cube anymore? Give us the keys. He entrusted them to you, and you screwed up. You screwed up big time."

"I……I……b-but……M-Marvin……"

"Marvin's in trouble too, Darren. Just, not for the same reason as you are," the second leaned over. "In fact, it's a safe bet that you're better off. I bet you can't believe that—but, Hell, I bet you can't believe in anything but little shadow friends at the moment."

"………"

One of them gestured. "Roll over, Darren. I'm not turning your soggy hide over to get to your back pockets."

"………"

He frowned. He stood up and kicked Darren hard in the side. _**WHAM!**_

"NNNNGH!" Darren rolled, barreled down the stairwell, and collapsed on the next landing below. He curled up, coughing and spitting up a green fluid.

"Whoah damn! Haha! He's so LOADED with the stuff!"

"Yeah, he's full of shit, if you ask me," the kicker frowned, marched over, and jabbed hard into Darren's back pocket. He pulled out three separate car keys. Mitsubishi, Volkswagen, and BMW symbols extravagantly glinted in a moth-haloed exit lamp flickering above. "You messed up bad, Darren. You're supposed to deliver the boss' stuff, not _suck it up like a cockroach!"_ He kicked Darren again. _WHAM!_

"Dude—I think he got the message."

"He's got nothing. He's a vegetable. You hear that, Darren?" the thug spat. "You're a failure to D-Cube and yourself, and look where it's got you?" He slipped the keys into his pocket and spun around, yanking his buddy's shoulder. "Leave him to rot…"

"Wh-What about Marvin?"

"We'll deal with him when the time comes. Let's just get Mister D's shit back."

"Heh……Smartest idea I heard all day." They waved as they strolled down the steps and towards a fire escape exit. "Good bye forever, Darren the Asparagus! Hahahaha!"

"Heheh……"

Darren shook all over. He crawled a few feet and curled up against a wall. He spit a little and stared off into an endless space—_**FLASH!**_—and for the briefest moment, his eyes flickered a hot, emerald green. And then he fell unconscious……

Twitching.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"A-**CHOOOO!"** Starfire exhaled, and let loose a starbolt that exploded into a random piece of the kitchen counter in the Main Room. Needless to say, that part of the kitchen was no more.

"Robin……," Raven sniffed as she tried with shaking, sickly hands to pour herself some hot tea. "Will you get Starfire to stop sneezing flaming death before she destroys my favorite reading seat?"

"SNKKKT—" Starfire inhaled and clutched a pink blanket to herself. "I am m-most alarmed and c-confused……Wherever has our caretaker Cyborg travailed upon relocating himself?" She coughed, sipped from a tall glass of juice, and shivered under her shroud once more. "Surely he has not forgotten his selfless pledge to assist us in this time of dire need?"

"Nnngh……Star," Robin sat at the Titan's Computer and rubbed his eyemask as he tried ever so dazedly to scan a list of suspects' names from a data file. "You're just going to have to manage on your own for right now. The same goes for Raven and I. Cyborg's gone to PHASER Labs overnight to retrieve some much needed data concerning the stolen cars used in the Central District bank heist two weeks ago."

"B-But……," Starfire shivered. "This Terran 'chitis-of-the-bronx' is far more taxing than I was led to realize! It has been many a blorthfoorg since I last evacuated my digestive contents forthwith through my esophagus, and I am dreading the embarrassing likelihood that it may—_urp_—transpire again soon……" She whined in the last comment.

"I don't know what's making me sicker……," Raven sipped her tea and shuddered. "Being sick as a dog right now or hearing you talk about being sick as a dog……"

"You mean to insist that canines are naturally ill?" Starfire coughed and glanced over with puffy green eyes. "Why is it that during Beast Boy's ventures into the metamorphosis of said creature, he has not experienced nearly a fraction of the misery now assailing us?"

"The only one miserable here is you, Starfire," Raven groaned. "Ever thought of giving your voice a rest?"

"But Raven, I thought you were always miserable!"

"True—But this is different……"

"How so?"

"You wanna see vomit?" Raven's forehead pulsed. "Try asking another stupid question and I'll give you more than the two of us combined!"

"Girls, girls, girls……" Robin hissed.

"…………"

"…………"

"………'girls' what, Robin?"

"S-Sorry……my head started spinning for a second there…………," Robin reeled, spun very, very slowly in his computer chair, and faced the two. He was clad bravely in his Titans' costume—though a very wrinkly and unkempt version of it. "Look. We're sick. There's nothing we can do about it." He looked at Raven. "But we're not going to be miserable." He looked at Starfire. "And we're sure as heck not going to die!"

"B-But there are fates worse than death!" Starfire grimaced and nodded Raven's way. "Is th-that not right, friend Raven?"

"I've been known to say that," Raven lowered her pale-pale face to the tabletop beneath her. "But then again, I've been known to be a half-demon spawn……"

"I beg your par—par—PAR—_A-__**CHOOOO!"**_ **FLASH!** The back of the seat behind Raven melted just above where her head was.

"…………yeah, that's got to stop."

"SNIFF-SNKKKRT—I am so, so sorry, dear sickly friends! On m-my planet, this is hardly a common problem!"

"We're not ON your planet!" Raven leaned forward, growling. "But if you keep at it, we'll all be in a mausoleum!"

"Have I not expressed my most voluminous and sincere apologies?" Starfire frowned. "Perhaps, Raven, if you were to crash-land on Tamaran and contract Vegan Star Cysts, you would at least be half as understanding—or even physically recognizable!"

"Starfire……," Robin tried his best to smile. It came across like a sour sea lion. "You know what I find to be a good cure for stuffy sicknesses here on Earth?"

"What is that, Robin?"

"Some fresh, morning air," he pointed out the bright, sunlit window. "Seriously. Try airing it all out on the Tower's roof or balcony or something. It's amazing what wonders good oxygen can do."

She looked out the window, blinked puffily, then glanced back at Robin. "Would it not be more prudent to simply await the return of Cyborg?"

"Prudent, sure," Robin sighed. "But safe?—" He looked at Raven's pulsing temple, at the singed starbolt marks, and then back at Starfire. "—I'll let you be the judge of that."

"URP—" Starfire almost choked, sighed, and floated sickly above the floor in a blanket-draped hover. "M'beriul de X'hal……a tranquil embrace of Sol would be most invigorating. (SNIFF) Would you care to join me, Robin?"

"Sure, Star," he smiled weakly. "Just give me a few minutes. Not much longer."

"Very well then. Raven, I hope we do not have uncomfortably solid emotions standing between us……"

Raven blinked confusedly. "'No hard feelings'?"

"That is corr-……corr-……ah—_AH-__**AH-CHOOO!"**_ A potted plant blew up as she drifted out the door of the Main Room.

Robin sweatdropped.

Raven sipped more tea, rubbed her head, and blindly faced Robin. "Nnnngh……d-do you really have any intention of keeping that promise of yours?"

"Hmm?"

"To go join her outside……"

"Eh……maybe."

Raven's lips curved ever slightly. "Aren't you scared of making her mad?"

Robin slowly swiveled his chair to face the computer screen. "Nnnngh……I think right now, if Starfire killed me, it'd make things a lot easier for my nose and throat."

"Hmmph……and she says _***I'm***_ 'miserable'."

"Doesn't she, though……?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_CREEEEAK!_

The stairwell door to the roof of Titans' Tower slowly opened, and Starfire emerged, blanket and all. She sniffed, squinted at the sunlight, and murmured droopingly to herself as she floated a space forward, found a dust-free patch of concrete, and slowly nestled herself down.

"Mmmmmmmnnngh……"

Indeed, the Tamaranian girl managed a thin smile. She crossed her legs—_sniffed_—and let the blanket fall, revealing her white t-shirt and pink pajama bottoms. She tossed some frazzled red hair out from before her face and meditatively poised her fingers on her butterfly'd knees.

"X'Hal……it d-does feel adequately d-divine……!"

A breath.

"Peace……tranquility……calmness……Peace……tranquility……calmness………"

A brief wind kicked at her face. She weathered it, relaxing her lungs, maintaining a strong posture. Far beyond her—barely recognizable in the distance—a glinting, metal speck was suddenly and very speedily making its way down the road towards Titan's Tower……

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**VRMMMMMMMMMMMM!**_

A glisteningly clean, full-muscled Lamborghini was barreling its way down the gravel road towards the heart of Titan's Island. Inside, a frazzled young man with a denim jacket and frightened rabbit-eyes had his hands gripped iron-hard to the wheel. He hyperventilated and looked repeatedly at his rear view mirror—even turning his head over his shoulder completely—to check on seemly phantoms in pursuit of his speeding bumper.

"Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus……" He panted. Sweating bullets. "Just let me get there before they get me. Just let me get there, oh please, Jesus, oh please……" He nearly lost grip of the wheel, gasped as the rich sports car reeled momentarily with a deafening screech, and recovered. "Sh-Shit! Come on! Come on! Come on come on come on!"

Sprawled out on the empty passenger's seat was an assortment of metal files, screwdrivers, drills, copper wires, and what had to have been a half-dozen spare car keys—all of them different. There also rested a paper bag on the edge of the seat, rocking back and forth with the vibrating speed of the car as if there was something heavy inside it.

"Nnnngh!" the young man leaned desperately forward and slammed his foot harder on the gas. He grinded the highest gear like a psychotic motorhead. "COME ON!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"What are you studying so hard that you can't enjoy a peaceful death, Robin?"

"Very funny," the Boy Wonder sniffed and scrolled down a list of names on the computer screen. "It's this arrest warrant forwarded to me from Metropolis. (SNIFF). It shows every suspect allegedly connected to a drug trafficking ring along the upper East Coast. Maggie Sawyer and her offices have reason to believe that half of the bunch named here are hiding out in Bludhaven."

Raven shuffled up behind him, steaming mug in hand. "Mmmgnnnh…" She blinked, bleary eyed. "And the other half?"

"That's what I'm trying to jog my memory with……" Robin swallowed a soar throat and sighed. "If only I had gone over this list twenty-four-hours ago instead of lying in my room like a rotten tree limb."

"Wait a second……," Raven narrowed her blue eyes and pointed at the list. "By Azar—We know that suspect, don't we?"

"Hmm?"

"Victor Reno," Raven slurred. "He lives in an apartment in West Central—He shares it with those two creeps Beast Boy believes he saw committing that arson back in April."

"Then he lives in an apartment with two people Beast Boy believes he saw walking away from a fire……"

Raven gave Robin a wyrd look. "Wow, you _are_ sick!"

"I beg your—(URP)—pardon?"

"Well, shouldn't we go after them? The Titans could capture all three." She sipped, exhaled. "I'm not one to be gung-ho, but it'd be nice to be doing our homework ahead of time, for a change. It could even help that police friend of yours in Metropolis—_Sellers?"_

"**Sawyer**," Robin said. "And no, Raven."

"By Azar—Why not?"

"You said it yourself. It's all a matter of suspicions and assumptions."

"Since when did that ever stop us?"

"Since always," Robin sighed. "Look……We can pursue suspects, we can tail them, we can spy on them—But unless there is appropriate evidence to convict any single one of them, then who are we to arrest anyone?"

"And yet we have the pure and unmitigated license to pummel their skulls with brute force in the event we _do_ find them to be convicted," Raven droned. "Wearing spandex, no doubt."

Robin blinked under his eyemask. "Something you're trying to say, Raven?"

"It's rather hypocritical to call it a 'reality check'," Raven murmured. A sigh. She leaned back against a table and sipped some more. "But still, it's rather disheartening to see us come so close to nailing someone, only to stop short."

"It's a matter of the _law_, Raven."

"But you and I both _know_ that these people are guilty, Robin. And don't you deny it."

"I'm not denying anything, Raven," Robin said. "Least of all my commitment to justice over iron-fistedness. We've been over this a hundred times before; we're superheroes, not reckoners of some divine punishment. If the law can't convict people like these, then we can't."

"Mmmmmfnngh……I've always wondered……"

"Yes, Raven?"

"How long do you suppose we can keep that up?"

Robin raised an eyebrow to that.

But, then: **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!**

The two Titans perked.

Raven murmured: "Are my flu results in?"

"That's the Tower's Proximity Alarm……," Robin glanced all about, concentrated, and flew forward—typing madly across the computer console. He minimized the suspect list and brought forth a window detailing a map-grid of the Island. "There!" He coughed, pointed—singling out a blinking light as it drove south towards the center of the island. "Someone's driving up to the Tower, and fast."

"It's not the T-Car, right?" Raven tyredly blinked. "Or else it would have neutralized the alarm detectors……"

"And we're _definitely_ not expecting any visitors," Robin stood up, walked—more like hobbled—to the edge of the Main Room. He pressed a button and an entire glass panel of the window slid open. Squinting through his eyemask, he peered down towards the gravel road of the isthmus leading up to the island. Raven levitated behind him.

A blazing yellow sports car rocketed its way at over one hundred miles per hour towards the front steps, kicking a white cloud of dust and chaos.

"It's……It's……," Raven droned.

"It's a Lamborghini!" Robin blinked. "What in the heck……?"

"Maybe it's the ghost of Mario Earnhardt?"

Robin slowly turned and gazed at Raven.

Raven blinked. "Erm……Dale Andretti?"

"………"

"I fail at boy-jokes. So sue me," she muttered, shudderingly so. "So, are we going to pay them a visit or what?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**VRMMMMMMMMM-**__**SCREEEEE-EEEEECH!**_

The blazing car spun a literal three-sixty before grinding to a gravel-tossing halt at the very foot of the Tower. The door flew open and the panicked driver all but stumbled out. He panted, took a deep breath, and leapt up and down in place, facing the full height of the enormous, Superheroic structure.

"Hey! HEYYYYYY! Somebody! Anybody! Please help—I can tell you all you need to know!"

He stood there, panting, swallowing, nervously glancing over his shoulder.

Silence persisted about him……

"Oh god……" He suddenly quivered with a sudden doubt. "Oh god oh god oh god……" He grabbed at his hair and spun around. "What do I do--?"

_**WHAM!**_ A spandex'd knee slammed into the small of his back.

"DAH!" The boy fell to his knees.

"NNGH!" Robin dropped down from atop the Lamborghini and grabbed the stranger's arms, forcing them behind his back and into a pair of titanium handcuffs. "Stay still!"

"I-I will! I will! Please, don't hurt me!"

"Stay still for once and nobody will have to get hurt!" Robin finished binding him. He stifled a cough and stood up. _Snkkkt!_ He extended a metal staff and pressed it into the small of the crouching man's back. "Just be calm!"

"Wh-Why're being so hard on me?"

"Because of _THAT!_" Robin kicked the doorframe of the Lamborghini. A paper bag inside shook loose from the driver's seat and fell onto the car floor, emptying its contents: a loaded pistol.

The guy stammered: "L-Look, I was scared, okay?"

"That's no excuse—"

"THERE ARE PEOPLE AFTER ME! Y-You gotta help!"

"One step at a time—"

"NO! You don't understand—They are AFTER me!" The guy scrambled and stood up.

Robin raised his metal staff to strike. "I said—!"

"I can tell you everything—EVERYTHING about his operations! Everything you need to know! The trafficking! The merchandise! The hired hands involved—As much as I know! PLEASE! I need help!"

Robin's eyemask narrowed. "Who?"

The stranger growled and pathetically kicked the tire of the sports car. "Who **else**, man? Everyone knows you've been after him ever since you came to this stinkin' town! I can give him to you! Just please—Lemme into your Tower or something! Lock me up so they don't get to me!"

"Wait……," Robin blinked under his disguise. He flashed a look towards the passenger seat of the car. He saw the pile of car keys—all for rich and immaculately brand new vehicles, some with dealership tags still on them. He glanced back at the young man, his mouth agape. "You mean D-Cube?"

"Yes!"

"You can give me testimony—_spoken testimony_—on D-Cube?"

"Y-Yes, already! Now hurry! They're coming!"

"Who—" Robin's gaze turned towards the horizon. He froze.

Another sportscar—a red corvette—was just then screeching to a halt halfway down the neck of the land ridge leading onto the Island. It was as if the driver had magically seen the gaze of Robin from an incalculable distance away.

Robin blindly tripped the stranger to the ground with his staff. _Whap!_ ("Whoah!"—**Thud!)** While the individual was down, Robin stood over him and whipped out a tiny pair of binoculars from his utility belt. He gazed due north. He spotted two shapes—two figures inside the car. They gestured and shouted wildly at one another as the driver spun at the wheel, reversed the corvette completely around, and roared the vehicle back up the isthmus and into the heart of the City.

"Dammit!" Robin spat. He let loose a misguided cough as he spun about desperately, grabbing for options. The Titans' garage was far away, locked, with the R-Cycle deep inside. Cyborg's T-Car was already in downtown. And Robin couldn't fly—"!.!.!.!.!" Robin glanced up to the top of the Tower. He whipped out his communicator. "Starfire! Star, this is Robin! Come in!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Peace……Tranquility……" the Tamaranian girl hummed, her gentle green eyes shut.

_SNkkkkkt!_ Something nestled underneath her blanket vibrated and let loose a muffled: _"Scrkk—Do you copy? Scrkkk—go after that car!"_

Starfire's eyes opened. "H-Huh?" A sniffle. She numbly fumbled a hand through the blanket and found the communicator. She spoke into the device, holding it upside down. "Robin, is that you? It is getting lonesome up here—_Eeep!_" She turned the communicator right-side-up. "I do hope this does not concern the eradicated bits of kitchen furniture, in which case—"

"_Snkkkt—Star, that could wait! Listen to me, I need you to stop that car!"_

"Huh?" Her head whipped dizzily around as she glanced every which way. "Why, what automobile do you refer to, Robin? I am sorely confused—"

"_North!"_ the voice desperately shouted—coughed—spat—and barely managed: "_Due north, Star! The red sports car! The one speeding towards town! I need you to stop it at all costs!"_

She stood up and stumbled to the north edge of the Tower. "But, what is amiss--?"

"_It's the D-Cube case I've been telling you about for months now, Starfire!"_

She froze. She saw it. It was barreling west and towards the thick of early morning, City traffic.

"_You must catch them before it's too late!"_

"De X'hal……," Starfire pocketed the communicator, ran, leapt, and blurred in a soaring streak northward—pajamas and all.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SWIIIIIISH!**_

Robin and the stranger spun about as the Tamaranian girl blazed overhead.

In the far distance, the red speck had become a translucent dot. Soon enough, not even the Boy Wonder could see it.

He bit his lip, sniffled, and leaned on his bo-staff. "………After all this time……" A pause. He looked down at the young man. "What is your name?"

The boy gulped. "M-Marvin……" He lowered his eyes, exhaling in relief. "Marvin Crocket……one of Mister D's 'Kids'."

"Not anymore, you're not."

"I can only hope……"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**VRMMMMMMM!**_ The corvette barreled through an intersection, criss-crossed two red lights, and elicited a throng of angry horns in a halo about it. The driver and passenger could be seen bouncing around inside as the sportscar found a straightaway, aligned its tires, and throttled forward in the highest gear.

Two seconds passed.

Four seconds.

Six……

Eight………

A full dozen seconds, and finally—

_**FWOOOOOOSH!**_ Starfire soared mightily over the same intersection. Her green eyes were locked onto the vehicle in question. She gritted her teeth, fought back the nausea in her wind-tossed head, and picked up speed, becoming a veritable comet of green wrath. _**PHROOOMB!**_ Streetlights and telephone wires dangled visibly from the proximity of her speeding person as she too became a speck on the horizon.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SCREEEECH!**_

The corvette drifted around a street corner, nearly plowing through a throng of Catholic school children at the crosswalk. They shrieked and flinched in a flexing snake of frightened bodies as the car coasted past them, kicked up dust, and zoomed down a row of apartments. Onlookers gasped and murmured as the car zoomed off.

Nine seconds later……

_FWOOOOOSH!_ Starfire arced around the same corner—nearly paused at the sight of the cowering children. But in a split-second examination, she deemed them safe, and soared on after her target. Her scarlet hair kicked as she picked up speed, not losing track of the suspects……

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Rubber tires burned as the corvette merged into a main thoroughfare, taking it into the denser, dark alleys of the Northern District. L-Trains throttled and roared overhead, all the while the suspects tried hiding under the shadows and lattices of the smoggier body of the City.

But it was to no avail—Six seconds on their tail, Starfire reappeared, slinking around a corner. She charged starbolts in both hands to give her light. The emerald energy illuminated the back of the not-so-distant sports car as she gained even more distance. One could barely make out the panicked faces of the suspects, glancing back through the rear window.

The Tamaranian girl smartly narrowed her eyes, briskly scanning the letters and numbers on the license plate of the vehicle—

_**SCRCCCCHHH!**_ The car suddenly came to a dead-stop.

"EEEK!" Starfire performed a barrel roll, so as not to plummet with deadly force into the aluminum body of the car.

Stalled, the vehicle did a slow but sharp about-face and ducked down into the lower tunnels that led towards the Industrial half of the Northern District.

Starfire spun about in mid-air, frowned, and darted after them. "Nnnn-_**NNNGH!"**_

_**FWOOOOSH!**_ She flew deep into the tunnels like a bullet.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The revving engines of the corvette echoed across the claustrophobic walls of the tunnels. Support pylons zipped-zipped-zipped-by like sporadic ocean waves as the car violently navigated the two forward lanes of traffic, pin-pointing a sun-bright exit half-a-mile ahead.

Starfire darted in and around slow bits of traffic, trying her best not to collide with anyone or anything in the maddening pursuit. Her eyes glowed a hot emerald as she attempted to hover behind the sports car long enough to target its tires—

Just then, the passenger side window rolled down and a shadowy suspect stuck his upper body out……with a semi-automatic machine gun.

_**BL-BL-BL-BLAM!**_

Starfire gasped and ducked her head—

_**CL-CL-CLANG!**_ Bullets pinged off the roof of the blurring tunnel, shattering two underground lights into flickering fragments.

_**BL-BLAM! BLAM!**_ The suspect aimed lower.

Starfire spun out of the way, gasping to see two fresh holes appearing in her t-shirt sleeve and pajama cuff. She looked forward again—_"EEP!"—_and soared up just in time to avoid the top of a braking camper van, her chest nearly scraping the stack of storage boxes atop it.

The suspect reloaded his gun…

A frowning Starfire coughed, soared down low, spiraled around a Volkswagen Beetle, and came up onto the corvette's side.

The suspect cocked his gun and aimed it at her.

"RAAAUGH!" Starfire fired a single starbolt.

_**CLANG!**_ The passenger gasped as the gun was knocked out of his grasp. It ricocheted off a maintenance door blurring by with a cloud of sparks.

Starfire reached a superheroic hand forward to grab onto the rear bumper of the corvette—

_**VRMMMM!**_ The car suddenly veered to the left and impossibly bridged a pylon-gap, roaring head-on against the wrong way of traffic.

"X'Hal!" Starfire gasped.

_**HONK! HONKKKK! HONKKKKK!**_ Cars swerved and braked hard as the corvette fearlessly drove into them. The mad driver miraculously managed to dodge every single hulk of metal and flesh—until an unlucky motorcyclist met its front left wheel.

Starfire's eyes twitched.

_**CRACK!**_ The bike flipped front first, flinging the helmeted innocent, flailing, throught the tunnel air—"AAAAAH!"--and straight into a jackknifing semi-truck. _**HONKKKKK!**_

"I have you!" Starfire dove down low. _CLUTCH!_ She grabbed the man's body from behind, hugged him to her chest, and spun about. Face-up, the two skirted under the grinding trailer of the semi-truck, blurred up along the tunnel wall, and barely escaped the careening grill of a Dodge Cherokee. _SW-SW-SWISH!_ Starfire spun them both right-side up, and hovered to a stop. Panting.

She saw the corvette getting away, ramping up the exit and speeding onto street level.

Starfire looked left, then right—Found a convertible, and darted past it. "My exuberant apologies, citizen-in-leather, but you will be most safe here!" _PLOP!_ She dropped the dizzied motorcyclist into the backseat and roared off out of the tunnel……

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SCREEEECH!**_

The corvette—tires smoking—slid across two lanes of traffic and zoomed towards a thick grid of warehouses, power plants, and industrial complexes.

_SWOOOOSH!_

Starfire emerged from the tunnel, spun about, fought a vomitous urge—and spotted the getaway car. She bolted after it, no longer claustrophobically restrained.

The corvetted swerved left, right, down one road, down a narrow alleyway, and up a ramp and onto the Main Highway.

Starfire zipped, twirled, spun, and soared after the agile vehicle, undeterred. Her eyes streamed with sickly tears as she accelerated even harder, reaching a hand up after the engine-burning daredevils. The Sun glinted in her eyes. The smell of exhaust and burning rubber further nauseated her.

But, at the last second—

_**SCREEEECH!**_ The Corvette swerved forcibly to the side and purposefully cut off a family minivan. The six occupants—over half of them children—shrieked in terror as their driver lost control and careened clear through the guardrail of the raised highway. _**SMASSSH!**_

Starfire stopped in mid-air and gasped. Abandoning the corvette, she twirled back and shot in a green bolt towards the plummeting family van.

The vehicle fell one story……two stories……two and a half—_solid concrete—__GRIP!__**—**_Starfire had grabbed onto the rear of the van with her super strong hands, stopping the thing with less than a foot to spare between its front fender and the manhole of the street beneath it. She strained—sweating, hair tossed—but managed to slowly lower the thing onto all four wheels at the edge of an intersection.

"Nnnngh……," she slumped down besides it and practically deflated to the ground. She was all but numb to a gathering throng of applause as a construction site full of men and a few other onlookers rushed over to the scene. People helped the tearful family out of the car and many a cell phone camera began clicking away. "Mmmmngh……" Starfire gazed with sickly eyes towards the length of the highway, but her target was impossibly lost amidst the sea of mobile aluminum. "I……I-I have failed……" She sniffed, depressingly.

"_Wow! Starfire! That was totally cool!"_

She sniffed again.

"_Can I have your autograph?"_

"Aaaa-**CHOOO!"**

**FLASH!**

"DAH!" a random fan was blown back into a pile of garbage. _THUD!_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Well, Robin, as it turns out, all of the cars attributed to the heist were carrying something in their trunks that was high in nitroglycerine, sodium, and nitrobenzene."

"_In that exact combination?"_

Cyborg spun about in the PHASER Labs basement chair and nodded. "Yup," he muttered into the Titan's Communicator. He glanced at Dr. Ray, who was scribbling information down onto a clipboard sheet. "Not only that, but there was a decaying residue of—"

"_Radiated sulfur particles?"_

"You guessed it," the android Titan nodded. "If all of the residues accounted for were part of the complete package, than I'm guessing we're dealing with a batch that was put together no longer than a year ago."

"_So whatever it was they were peddling—It was fresh."_

"Oh, they weren't merely peddling this stuff, Robin. This had to have been a MOTHERLOAD of the junk—They had to have been directly connected to the source of the manufacturer. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"_That the bank heist was a ruse to cover their own tracks? Absolutely……"_

"So, you tell me, Robin," Cyborg leaned forward. "This motorhead who just landed in your lap—is he gonna give us the missing puzzle piece? Cuz we sure as Hell need one!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin coughed, sniffed, and murmured back into the communicator. "That's what I hope to find out. Thanks for doing your research, Cyborg. You can take off whenever you want."

"_Well, alright! Over and out."_

"Bye."

_Click._

Robin pocketed the communicator, took a shuddering breath, and closed the distance between himself and a one-way mirror. He stood in a cubicle, metal room—full of shadows—in the heart of the Titans' headquarters. Beyond the dim glass was a graylit chamber. The self-alleged 'Marvin Crocket' sat at a metal table, still visibly shaken from his flight to the Tower. He rubbed his forearms and seemingly waited for the world to implode. His eyes were of a twitching, green complexion.

Robin narrowed his gaze. Pondering……

A sickly Starfire limped out of the shadows besides Robin, clutching a blanket draped over her shoulders. "He appears g-greatly dismayed……"

"Considering whom he's been supposedly employed with, he has every reason to be. This kid's come straight from the heart of the City's Northern District—and quite a nasty heart that is."

"A pity: what would frighten him hysterically so?"

"Anything. Nothing. I'm not sure if even he could tell us that."

"And yet, you hope to extract information from him?"

"I can't let an opportunity like this pass, Starfire," Robin said. "I've been on this case too long—_All_ of us have been on this case……"

The Tamaranian girl looked shamefully towards the floor. "I am……most sorry……for allowing those vehicular cretins to escape."

"There is nothing for you to be sorry for, Starfire," Robin gave her an assuring smile. "You did your best on a split hair's notice, and only distracted yourself for the safety of others. You performed as an outstanding heroine."

"But did I not lose one of your 'last pieces' to this puzzle?"

"Frankly, Star, if Mister Crocket here doesn't cut it……," he walked over to the door and placed his gloved palm on the handle. "Then neither would have those two suspects—Even if we _did_ catch them." He opened the door and walked in.

A sniffling Starfire stared puffy-eyed through the one-way mirror and watched……

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Marvin shook ever so slightly as Robin shuffled in, dragged another chair to the table, and sat down across from the young man. He stared at the individual. Marvin bit his lip and had a hard time staring back. His eyes twitched. Green. And it remained that awkward for a frozen ten seconds until…

"Do you know what you get when you combine nitroglycerine, sodium, nitrobenzene, and a pinch of radioactive sulfur?"

Marvin gulped: "N-Not sure, what?"

"You get the main ingredients for a dense explosive known as carbonite. It's been used in this City on twelve different occasions. It's cost the lives of nearly one hundred and fifty people—And it's only been used by one person. Slade."

The 'witness' flinched at the mention of that last name.

Undeterred, Robin went ahead, his hands folded together: "My Number One, Cyborg, has found traces of this material on five separate sports cars discovered after they were spotted at a City Bank heist weeks ago. These were very expensive sports cars—much like the one you drove to the Tower, and much like the ones your stolen keys match. Aside from a common isotopic signature found on all the 'bank heist' cars, they all have one thing in common—They match the color, model, and year of the same number of sports cars found missing—last month—at the car lot and service shop belonging to the esteemed Mister Edward Dowd, otherwise known in his advertising circles as 'Ding Dong Daddy'—and to those in the street as 'D-Cube'."

Marvin watched, nervously, as Robin stood up and paced around the table.

"D-Cube has been under our watch for months……years," the Boy Wonder spoke. "We have first-hand experiences with his otherwise alleged acts of grand theft auto. My teammates and I have seen those in his employment commit acts of arson. The very street he lives on has been the site of two execution-style killings and five acts of savage beating in the last three months alone."

Robin stood directly behind Marvin.

"But all of these accounts—are simply that, accounts." He leaned against the table and gazed down at the teenager. "And all matter of evidence has been circumstantial. Even the cars we've most recently discovered and tested are covered by legitimate—howbeit outrageous alibis. In our persistent attempt to bring D-Cube and his lackeys to justice, we've gathered all the strength and muster, but we lack the substance. In the world of lawful justice, spirit and experience alone can't put a reptile behind bars."

Robin paced around and stood on the shadowed side of the room. He looked directly at Marvin.

"What we've been needing—even _praying_ for—is a first-hand account, an eyewitness, someone whose testimony can pinpoint the bits of evidence we need so that—with proper research and analysis, we can finally bring the law back down on D-Cube, and—if today's scientific analysis is of any true indication—eliminate the most real stepping stone that still lies between the criminal underworld of this City……and Slade himself."

Marvin bit his lip and took a deep breath.

Robin leaned forward. "Now, Mister Crocket……what can you tell us?"

Marvin ran a shaky hand through his hair and exhaled. "Cars. Places. Names."

"What. Who. Where?"

"Pontiacs, Porsches, Coupes. Davin Street, the corner of Fifth and Bridge, Pier Seventy-Two dockside. Scout, Mitchell, Kraig, Doug, Sheldon—"

"Are these thugs or are these distributors."

"They're just _that_! Names, miserable people whom I bump into from time to time as I do what I'm paid to do."

"And what are you paid to do?"

"T-To steal cars, to bring them to D-Cube's lot, to get my money, to go out, to steal more cars, to bring them back and get paid—again."

"Who pays you? Dowd? Does Dowd function alone?"

"I dunno—I guess? Sometimes he has one of the other boys hand me the cash on payday."

"He doesn't have any fellow businessmen?"

"I don't know--!"

"If you want to be of any help, you have to be more specific."

"Look, I didn't come here promising that I _could_ be of help," Marvin shuddered. "I-I-I certainly need help! But in return, I'll give you all that I've got! And it's the truth that I steal cars—and sometimes I take them to wyrd places, and sometimes I ditch them, and sometimes I don't see what happens to them at all! I have no idea what you're talking about with this 'Carbonite' thing……it sounds scary as Hell. But I do know that as soon as I started to look elsewhere, D-Cube grew suspicious. And soon enough, he was sicking the boys after me. I knew my time was up. So I made like I was doing one last delivery—and instead booked it to here. Please, Mister Titan—I'm begging you to protect me. I don't know where else to go……"

Robin's eyebrow raised. "Not even to the police?"

"The police can't do jack!" Marvin suddenly stood up, took a breath, and sunk back down into his seat. "D-Cube has the eyes of the street. It's like the concrete is his skin or something in this City. I dunno how he does it—"

"Is Slade helping him?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I……," Marvin sighed, hanging his head and resting his face against his palm.

"………" Robin silently slid over to the young man's side. He knelt beside him. "Marvin……as long as you are in this Tower—as long as you are inside these walls, you have nothing to be afraid of. D-Cube can't get to you. The thugs of the street can't touch you. Not even Slade—in all his power—can lift a finger. I promise you that I won't turn you into their hands." A pause. "Are all of D-Cube's employees your age?"

Marvin fidgeted. "S-Some of us are even younger……"

Robin nodded. "You've done a lot of bad things, Marvin. But what you have done out of desperation, D-Cube has done out of selfishness and greed. He has no regards for the well-being of this City—for those whom Slade could even hurt. But you……You have a conscience, don't you?"

"………"

"Marvin……what _really_ made you come to me?"

His eyes twitched a deep green. His lips quivered. "When Darren went nuts………"

Robin cocked his head to the side. "Darren?"

"My best friend. We knew each other before……" A wince. "……before we worked for Dowd. He and I were doing good, making good money. We had nothing to be afraid of. And then, one week--……one week I didn't see or hear from him. And when I finally did……he wasn't the same person. Something had……broken inside of him. Not snapped—cuz he wasn't in a rage. He had just collapsed, imploded, like he had lost his soul and the weight of his body fell inward."

"When did this happen to your friend, Marvin?"

"……right after his delivery……" Marvin looked up at Robin. "……to Pier Seventy-Two."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Dude, we're to go where?" Beast Boy spoke curiously into his communicator.

"_(SNIFF) Pier Seventy-Two. It's along the Docks east of the Industrial District. That's where Crocket says the delivery was made."_

"What delivery? And just who is this guy?" Beast Boy cackled. He glanced at me from where he and I stood atop a rooftop halfway through Downtown. He shrugged and I shrugged. "And don't we need a search warrant or something?"

"_Right now, he's our……guest at the Tower. He's offering us an insider's eye into the workings of Ding Dong Daddy. I want to put his testimony to the test."_

"Oh, and we're the guinea pigs? Heh, if I wanted to practice being a rodent today, Robin, couldn't you have sent me after some French cheese bandits?"

"_This is serious, Beast Boy. I'm not about to let us pass this opportunity by."_

"Who's us again?"

"_This team of ours has been after D-Cube for ages. If we can stop his illicit marketeering, then it's better late than never."_

"So we're all doing this on a hunch?"

"_If we connect the dots, then we can make a firmer step than hunch-making."_

"Right-o……here's to faith in action."

I gestured to Beast Boy curiously.

Somehow that triggered him to re-inquire: "Oh right—What about a search warrant? We can't just waltz into Pier Seventy Two and expect to be allowed to stand on the welcome mat!"

"_Beast Boy……when was the last time you did your homework on the City's urban growth?"_

"Uhhh……

"_Pier Seventy Two is on the east side of Section H."_

"………"

"_It's in an abandoned section, Beast Boy."_

"Oh……well ain't that convenient?"

I smiled.

"Well, Noir seems happy."

"_Don't rush it. Once you get there, wait for Cyborg."_

"Oooooh—Cyborg's joining us?"

"_And you must WAIT for him……"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin stood in the Main Room of the Tower, leaning sickly against a glass window. "There's no telling what you may or may not find inside that place. Cyborg's scans should let you know if you should proceed or not with the search."

"_You're expecting us to hit a nest of radioactive cockroaches or something?"_

"You know, Beast Boy, just because I'm coughing up phlegm for breakfast doesn't give you the license to be a smartass."

"_Gotcha, boss. Noir, let's move out, Noobie."_

_-Blip._-

Robin pocketed his communicator away.

"You're taking a big risk……," Raven droned from the side.

Robin glanced back at her, rubbed his sniffling nose, and nodded. "Not as big as I've long wanted to."

"Beast Boy and Noir have a reason to be hesitant," the dark girl scooted forward in her kitchen seat. "What if this entire thing is a trap? Or a setup? Isn't it rather convenient for this 'Marvin Crocket' person to drop into our laps?"

"I've seen many setups in my days of crime fighting. The trap in question is often too emphatic about their cause." Robin glanced Raven's way. "Marvin is a confused, scared, and frightened young man. I've found there to be a great deal of honesty in the minds of the desperate."

"So you can read minds now……"

"No, but you can—somewhat," Robin strolled towards her. "You tell me, Raven. Is this someone we can trust?"

"Nnnngh……," she rubbed her head achingly. "It always comes down to you asking me that……"

"Doesn't it, though?" Robin smiled.

"It's hard to say. Everything's cloudy," Raven's eyes thinned. "And that's not just because of the bronchitis."

"Right."

"He is being honest—So you're right about that, Robin. But something's not altogether right. I think when you admit he's confused, there's more to it than you think."

"How so?"

"I can't explain it—But it's like something else is in his head."

"Something else?"

"Like a pollutant—I think his decision to come here was made for more than just a gut reaction to a fallen friend."

"Well, if there's one thing I'm not about to do, it's to sit on this," Robin grabbed his bo-staff from a console on the wall and marched towards the elevator. "In the end, there's only one person who knows the absolute truth."

Raven blinked. "You're not seriously considering going to see _him_, are you?"

"Why not?" Robin frowned and entered the elevator. "I've done it millions of times before!"

_**SWISH!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

'_Ding Dong Daddy's Deals and Wheels.'_

The lot was nestled in between a scrapyard, three warehouses, a factory, and an old diner. The air was saturated with engine revvings, drillbit screeches, and the ever-wafting-lilt of a Blues radio station. Cars rolled in and out—some supremely expensive, others built halfway there—with a flock of young, mostly high-school aged urbanites flanking them like caskets. While most of those present made themselves busy—bustling around, underneath, and atop the various auto bodies in shop—a good dozen or so could be seen milling about in random spots, tuned in to a radio station coming out of a speaker system, taking the time to heckle and laugh. Every one of them, in whatever conflagration, was all in the same spirit—and on the edge of it was a cautious turn-of-the-shoulder anxiety that fell just short of betraying their levity. People's hands wandered very little from their thin pockets…

It was at the gates of this vehicular purgatory that Robin's R-Cycle rolled up, parked on a dime, and idled.

"……," Robin took off his helmet and gazed across the street. He took a wheezy breath, stepped off the bike, and cracked the joints in his neck. "The one lion's den where the lion's always in office……" He planted the helmet down on the seat, marched off, and spoke into a small device. "**Lock**."

_**CHTKKK-CNG!-CNG!-CNG!-CNG**_ An armadillo assortment of metal plates sprang out of various joints in the bike and covered the device from head to toe. _**HSSSSssssss……**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

On the second floor of D-Cube's shop—above the grease and metal and hydraulics and fumes—resided a spacious office. Its thirty-to-forty years of age breathed, smoke-filtered, bouncing off between wood panels and brass borders, framing various stands where car trophies and photos of antique roadsters glistened in a constant polish. On one wall, an assortment of antique rifles and western pistols rested. On the opposite wall was a grand array of golf trophies, plaques, and clubs of various sizes. Then—in the back—was a large, oak-laden desk with a leathery chair, studded with more brass. Atop the desk, in between cyclonic assortments of papers and files and order forms—there stood a brass skull ornament.

A muscular hand popped open the skull cap of the brass cranium and pulled out a cigar, promptly popping it between a pair of middle-aged lips. The tiny swish of a pocket knife nicked the end of the cigar off. The sound of a lighter—and a few puffs were already breathing out of the end of the thing. Those same hands that lit the cigar then snaked around the handle of a silver golf club, as a thick-bodied figure stood in the middle of the office and proceeded to putt a ball towards the mouth of a brass tiger statue lying in the dusty corner.

"What it sounds like to me, boys, is that instead of bagging our runaway little brother, you spent the entire afternoon endangering the paint job of our customer's Cadillac XLR. That coat took a good month for my pen-pushers to scrounge up from the factories……"

"But, D, we got it back in one piece, didn't we?" a frazzled youth standing beside his friend at the front of the office exclaimed. "Considering that the Titans sent their alien bimbo after us—I think we were lucky to get away with our heads in tact!"

"Boys, boys……" the deep-voiced man struck a ball, landing it in the tiger's jaws. "……when it comes to your safety, luck has nothing to do with it." He took a puff of the cigarette, looked their way, and exhaled in pure, draconic style... A pair of dark-brown shades rested over his eyes. A bald, black crown atop mahogany neck muscles supported his deadpan stare. "You should be thanking me, not lady luck, that I haven't popped off those _precious heads_ of yours. And I'm not talking about the ones sportin' your half-baked brains."

The two young men gulped.

D-Cube popped another golf ball out of his pocket, rolled it down his foot, balanced it on his polished black shoe, and laid it on the ground in front of his club. "You ever taken a stroll across the Westhaven Greens on a bright, sunny day? It's a grand course—and even in the noontime, it's hard to see the end of the Par against the horizon. You realize that, to make it over that damn hill, you have to put every ounce of strength and energy into planning just one fateful stroke, and that stroke had better be good. To simply keep whacking away like a Mexican machete fight will only get you laughed at." He putted the ball. Once again, the tiger swallowed it. He glanced icily at the two teenagers. "Boys……you ever heard me laugh? Ever?"

"N-No, sir……"

"That's because I don't laugh. I find……other channels for my displeasure," he rested the club over his shoulder, but the fist that tightened around the handle was iron-wrought. "How many strokes do you think I should let you two have before I get exhausted by your clumsiness?"

"Erhm……I……"

"Come on, boys. It's not hard……" Breathily. "You know there's only one answer."

The talkative one bit his lip, averted his eyes to the ground, and barely muttered forth: "Mmm……o-one stroke, sir……"

"B-But haven't I given you one chance already?"

A bitten lip. A shakey nod.

"Well, we're just gonna have to hope I'm in a good mood," D-Cube removed his cigar from his mouth, exhaled, and returned it. Out the side of his lips he murmured: "Marvin—He's with the Titans now?"

"Y-Yes, D."

"……and Darren's been stripped?"

"Yes, D."

"…………" D-Cube shrugged all of the sudden. "Well, at least I ain't in a _bad _mood!"

The two teenagers exhaled sharply……

"But—" A dark finger pointed.

--they held their breaths.

"That's the last time I send you on a chase. When it takes two common idiots to bag one common idiot, I start to wonder where I should begin cutting my losses. But, having not lost anything, I've got no incentive to hack away, now do I?"

"You're the boss, D. Whatever you say goes……"

"Now there's a good suck-up. Come join me at Westhaven someday, boys. I'll show you how to make a perfect birdie."

"B-But sir……we can't afford golf shoes!"

"Like Hell! Who said anything about you doing a game with me? You'll be carrying my shit! Now, skedaddle," he chewed on his cigar and prepared another ball. "Before I swing my patience further than my club……"

"Y-yes sir! Th-Thank you, sir!" The two motioned at each other and tentatively scampered out. A pair of muscular young men who had been standing by the door the whole time gazed at them, then glanced at D-Cube.

He looked at the two heavies, adjusted his shades, and muttered: "Follow them home, wait til after dark, and teach them a lesson."

One of them nodded. "Sticks or shivs, D?"

"Didn't you hear me? I said a _lesson_," the man smoked. Then, a shrug. "……settle halfway at wires."

They nodded and left the office, closing the door behind them. Robin suddenly appeared, having been standing in the shadowed crook of the door the entire time.

D-Cube froze, slowly stood up, and removed his cigar before sighing. "You here to get tips or do you also want to become brass-plated?"

"I would never take tips from you," Robin frowned.

"Of course not," D-Cube casually putted another ball across his office. "That's why you're still wearing that ugly-ass cape. You gotta get yourself some threads, boy."

"I don't know what you're going to do to those two workers of yours," Robin marched across the room. He maintained his sickly voice above the muffled sounds of drillbits and hydraulics in the workroom below. "……but it's not going to cover your tracks. Not this time."

"What tracks are there to cover?" D-Cube twirled his club and strolled over to the far wall to grab another. "You certainly haven't mapped me out. The police definitely haven't—and even if they did, they wouldn't care—"

"You're exploiting the lives of young boys and girls on the streets—"

"—urchins, waifs, and drug addicts," D-Cube frowned and pointed. "Every single one of them. And I take them out of those shit-and-herpes cocktails that they call 'lives' and give them something to do with themselves. Something productive. Something credible."

"For what? A death threat every other evening and a life of crime and punishment to look forward to?"

"Robin, if you never fail to amuse me, I will forever listen to you just to remind myself of the constant absurdity you 'justice' league types find so fetishized……," D-Cube grabbed a bigger club, felt its weight, and turned around. "What you think in your young and inexperienced mind is 'crime', I have grown to see and understand as—"

"A hobby?"

"I was going to say a 'business'; my hobby is golf. You can make money doing what you love, but you can't love it as much as that which you waste twice the money to do."

"Is that a conscience I hear inside that venomous shell of yours?" Robin folded his arms and sniffed. "You earn three times the money from your 'business' than from your 'hobby', and yet it's at the expense of nearly dozens of kids who go missing each year. And for what? More brass in your office? Another cigar?"

"I'm hearing something scratchy in your voice, boy," D-Cube walked over to the side of his office and dropped another ball. "You've been catching the flu or what?"

"I'm not half as sick as you……"

"There you go with your ambiguously veiled insults." He putted. "You do know that they only amuse me, right? Every time you visit, it's the same thing. You insult me. You berate me. You blemish my character with a middle schooler's angst and ridicule, and yet you can't lift a legitimate finger against my reputation or my history."

"I know. You cover yourself well," Robin nodded. "You get on the good side of the rich and political. You sell to the highest bidder and pay the biggest favors and do everything but hump the proverbial leg of this City to keep yourself in a faux circle of love. You've been at it for so arduously long that any attempt to plant a bug or a sting on one of your criminal transactions falls short."

A corner of D-Cube's lips curved. "Robin, Robin—We've been through this a hundred times before. Get to the point before I get my boys to hurl your sick-ass out of here, because we're only repeating yesterday's conversation—"

"Does the name 'Marvin Crocket' mean anything to you?"

D-Cube paused at that. Silently, he leaned on his club, looked up at Robin, and pulled out his cigar. "You tell me why it should…"


	4. Chapter 4

**_I wrote this a long time ago as part of an unfinished project to finish all of the content in TBE...more or less. Actually, I don't remember what in the blue fudge I was doing. Same old train wreck. Anyways, I'm including it here because it enacts my vision of how exactly Ecto/Shion/Messenger goes about forming a connection with Jordan/Noir. The segment takes place in a bastardized XME Marvel-verse set in the future (past?) and pits post-BTW Ecto in the center of a team hunting down the Legacy Virus or something. Shion must make extreme measures to ensure the safety of all mutant kind, and he does something he will never live down. Huzzah._**

* * *

Three Years Ago.

San Francisco, California.

At a warehouse by a pier.

At night.

* * *

I arrived first. No X-Jet or plastic helicopter or even Illyana Rasputin's slight of hand could get me there faster than I needed to be there.

The warehouse was new, pristine: in a perfect state of youngness that insultingly contrasted with the moldy, decrepit pier building surrounding. I'm amazed that we never thought to spot it out sooner on any of our previous flybys. But then again, nothing special ever happened in San Francisco mutant-wise. Nothing.

Until that night. All of the missing ends were traced to this City, to this Bayside dock, to this building. This was where the hunt for the new Legacy strain had led us, and after many considerable bumps in the road too—The death of Namor. The raid on Genosha. The recovery of Infectia—and most dramatically of all.. …

Who Hawkeye really turned out to be.

I wasn't really surprised. I wasn't even all that much hurt by it, really. The organization Betty and I joined in tracking down the Legacy strain was so professionally anonymous and unemotional that it's no surprise one of our ranks turned out to be a shape-shifter. She had been using our allied strength and combined detective skills to her advantage and her advantage alone. And, ironically enough, it was easier to conclude that our group had been unconsciously working solely for her benefit the entire time—For she was seeking to control the very substance of the Legacy strain we so diligently pursued. In the end, Mystique had made pawns of us all.

But again, I wasn't surprised. I wasn't hurt. Quite frankly, I was too numbed over by the revelation of an even darker secret: the identity of the person whom Mystique was supplying the mutant-killing virus.

_**ZAAAT!**_

I touched down in an fuming cloud of green ectoplasm. Standing up in my dark black and neon green X-gear, I paused for a moment of silence. No, nobody has died quite yet. But I had the unshakeable feeling that someone was about to. Over four months of planning, sweating, salvaging and suffering had gone into this one night—a night that fell upon us all like a fanged thief with daggers for breath.

It was like the entire world was stabbing me and my colleagues in the back. And I knew that nobody on my team understood the wounds nearly as much as Betsy, Callisto, and myself. But the two of them had already gone through so much. I couldn't run away or wait for them or dump this on anyone but myself now. If there's anything I learned from the darkest days of being an X-Man—if there's anything I learned from the one night on the Blue Area of the moon—sometimes you have no choice but to run straight ahead at full force.

I was almost scared to step forward. But I broke through that last barrier in a broad stride and marched forward into the jaws of the awaiting warehouse building.

As soon as my solid feet made contact with the concrete world, my communicator squawked as if I had been pulled up out of depths of the Ocean.

"_Snkkkt—Ecto? Dammit, Ecto! Wait for the rest of us---Snkkkt!"_

I icily raised the communicator to my lips and drone forth: "I can't do that, Callisto. You know as well as I do that we have mere _seconds_ before the Shi'ar vessel decloaks and lands here for transport. None of us can afford to let the virus be carried onto that mercenary ship. The whole world's mutants hang in the balance."

"_Snkkkt—We're almost there! Don't be a fucking hero, Ecto! Wait for Cage, Reeds and I! Susan's patched a call through to the Fantastic Four. They should there shortly after us by way of sonic transport to assist—"_

"It's too late, Callisto," I murmured. I marched forward. I was like a war-torn android at that time. "There's no time like the present. You can all get here as fast as you can, but I am no able to wait for fear of—"

"_Ecto—PLEASE!"_ I've never heard the head of the Morlocks beg before. But at that time, she was the team leader of the group S.H.I.E.L.D. hired for this worldwide hunt. And I realized that—after months of working together—she must never have heard me sound so emotionless before. Things had gone so far beyond hitting the fan that there was nothing to be handed around but shock, shock, shock. And the deathly scent of the Legacy Virus loomed beyond. "_PLEASE wait for us! Don't let the first casualty of this goddamn new virus strain be you!"_

"If I have my way, there won't **be** any casualties," I hissed. "Ecto out." I flung the communicator to the ground. The act of doing it made me shudder. Like I was horrified at myself. But not for long.

I crept towards the building, and on the ground before it was a familiar sight. Pitiful, but familiar. With a trail of blood and vomit leading towards the large doors of the warehouse at a crawling-length. Just the sight of it—of her—reminded me quite chillingly of the horror I would ultimately be dealing with.

On the ground lie Mystique.. ….then Hawkeye… …then Mystique… .. ….then Hawkeye again. The shape-shifter was fluctuating in and out of consciousness, in and out of character. Blood and vomit trailed from her mouth, and I could taste her stomach fluid through my nostrils at a dozen feet. When I finally stood over her, she looked wearily up at me and turned into a nauseated Rogue for half a second before reverting back to her pathetic blueness.

"He h-has it.. …snkkt…," she sputtered. She murmured. "I g-gave it to him…. …Th-The Vial…." In the last stages of Mystique's life, she confided in me with the trust of a dying enemy on the battlefield. And sometimes—in this dark world of ours—that has always been far more trustworthy than listening to a friend on his deathbed. "Snrkkkt—You can t-try, but th-there is nothing you can do. Once he gets it into space… …"

"Shhh….," I murmured. I knelt down beside her as she was in half-Hawkeye mode and laid a hand on the one part of her neck not covered in dying juices. "I know, Raven. The virus will infect the whole world like it has infected you.. …."

Hawkeye urped, coughed, sputtered, and slinked back into a weary-eyed Mystique. "Then everything will end. No more mutants.. ….N-No more fucking war… …I-I'm just so s-sick of it.. …." She winced, wretched, and clenched her eyes shut. ".. …s-so fucking sick of it.. … … …let it all die… … …l-let it all die… …"

I held my tongue. I knew she was gone long before she was dead. I was no medical whiz, but I knew she would be suffering the entire time she laid there, unable to contain her once-malleable form. The Legacy Virus would liquefy the insides of her within an hour. If she was lucky, within the next fifteen minutes her brain would go dead and she wouldn't notice a difference from the descending hand of dark.

I stood up. I decided not to help her, as I knew she wouldn't protest. After so many years of so much strife and hardship and murder from her end of the bullet, we both knew that what she was going through was the briefest and most succinct of Hells she could deserve. That was the end of whatever understanding Raven Darkholme and I had of each other.

Actually, I take it back. The very next—very last interchange was the last.

"Sh-Shion.. …," Mystique gurgled.

I glanced down at her. "Yes, Raven?"

She shuddered. She morphed yet again and I was briefly graced with the gray, tearing eyes of Destiny when the next words mourned forth: "T-Take care of her f-for me.. …."

I felt better answering Irene than I did Raven. "Rogue is already in good hands," I nodded. "Rest.. …in knowing that."

Mystique did, and rolled back into her blue cocoon of flesh to be still forevermore.

_Cl-Clakkk!_ I unloaded a tranquilizer dart from my utility belt. I gripped it tightly and held it up alongside my face. I took deep breaths—as if something in the death rattle of Raven sent me hyperventilating for half a second. But I only knew that it was a preview of what lie ahead of me. I took one final inhale of deepness, steeled my petite self, and stealthily slithered ahead into the dark recesses of the warehouse's mouth.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

It was immediately clear that the warehouse served no purpose save for cover. There was absolutely nothing on the inside of the entire two stories—save for an array of metal catwalks stretching up towards the top section of the structure and a huge door leading towards the second compartment of the massive, indoor interior. What _did_ fill the place was a massive, strobing glint of red light produced from an alien signal device, standing like a wild obelisk in the center of the place. There were only three people inside—shady individuals who were packing and sealing and gathering their criminal tools and belonging with a frenziness that nearly matched the strobing light. I didn't need to see them to know who they were—Our chief adversary and his two henchpeople, whom we had bumped into in the past when we thought that they were our legitimate allies.

Which was the centermost reason for why I felt numb that night. The leader—our adversary—was no more than a friend. A colleague of olde. An X-Man. And whether or not he knew that we knew it—We knew… … ..We knew that he was the one. He was the source of the new Legacy Conspiracy. He was the one who staged Namor's death and Infectia's banishment and Mystique's last days of treachery.

He was Jamie Madrox. And even from twenty feet away, I could spot with my Asian eyes something in him that was still as young as ever, still as desperate as ever, and still as frightened as ever. I tried and I tried, but could only postulate the latter as being the reason behind his actions as of late.

_As of late? Was he doing it all along? How long was he procuring the Legacy Strain— _

_Moira, of course. When she died at Muir, it was over a scuffle between rogue mutant factions converging at the Island laboratory years before. During when?—The Legacy Outbreak, of course. Moira's Island was working on a cure, and they had a sample of the virus. People all around the world—mean people—wanted that. And they killed Moira for it. And little Jamie—little then—was there to watch._

The horror never left his eyes. It all made sense to me, and it numbed me all the more. I felt like I wanted to cry. Instead, I cleared my throat and aimed my tranquilizer forward—

"Jamie. Hold it right there."

Multiple Man gasped and flashed about to stare at me with wide eyes. His two henchpeople immediately spun and cocked their weapons—_**CL-CLACK!**_ They were two young things—the thugs. A blonde girl and a dark-haired boy. They were as young as Jamie. As young as me. As young and as scared as all of us that horrible night. The alien light strobed and strobed between us as we performed road-crossing-deer impressions upon the threshold of Doomsday.

Jamie, in his befuddlement, had dropped every expensive thing in his grasp. Everything—that is—but one item. Something that he clutched to his chest. A white cylinder. A vial.

_Legacy._

"Shion?" Jamie breathed, panted with as much breathlessness as the timid thugs on either side of him. He squinted his young adult eyes at me. "Is that you?"

I replied and yet I didn't reply. "Jamie Madrox, on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., you are under arrest for possession of an illicit weapon of mass destruction. Tell your companions to lay down their weapons and—"

"_Possession?"_ Jamie gasped. Then chuckled. Then let forth a high-pitched giggle that hauntingly reminded me of the past. "S.H.I.E.L.D. hired you and Betsy and your cockamamie cohorts to arrest me for _**POSSESSION**_ of the worst substance known to mankind? Heh—Aren't you being a little easy on me there, Shion? What about what I fucking intend to _**USE**_ with this stuff?"

"We all know your plan by now, Jamie," I exhaled. I narrowed my eyes into as menacing a glare as I could manage as I trained the tranquilizer front and center on him. "All this time, you've been using _X-Factor Investigations_ as a coverup. You had all of your doubles spread across half the globe not to work at satellites for your agency—But instead to gather information and bureaucratically create a conspiracy that nobody could track. Single-handedly, through your multiples, you raided the underwater testing facility, staged the death of Namor the Sub-Mariner, constructed the prison for Infectia at Genosha, infiltrated Latveria, worked Mystique into helping you gather the last of the viral materials in New York two nights ago. And you did all of it to lead S.H.I.E.L.D.'s team along the path that YOU wanted for them—for _us_ to go. You've been manhandling this operation Callisto's been leading for the purpose of aiding your plan—Which is to gather together the last of the Legacy Strain and bring it on board the alien ship you're now summoning." I took a deep breath and tightened my fingers on the trigger. "But now that we've gotten past the 'how' part, Jamie… …All that's left is 'why'."

"Not quite, Sh-Shion…," he smiled weakly and shook his head. "There's a little bit of the 'how' left! You ever stop to think what I'm going to do with this shit once we're all safe in the belly of the Shi'ar ship?"

I swallowed dryly. I murmured forth: "**Why**, Jamie?"

"I went through great lengths—using the diplomatic powers of many multiples in many corners of the globe to communicate with these people. I finally got a mercenary visiting Earth to hear me out. On behalf of the militant wing of the New Shi'ar Ruling Class, he's more than willing to fashion the orbital transport and the torpedo needed to launch at Earth and carry the strain into the atmosphere. People of his kind remember mutants well—They're still wanting to slit each and everyone of our throats after the whole incident with the Dark Phoenix: with **Jean**, Shion."

"**Why**, Jamie?"

He went on: "You know what's in this vial? It's not just the Legacy Virus, Shion. No-No.. …not the Grandma Soup that Mister Sinister could cook up overnight. This sample has been fused together with dense, hydrogen ions. The Shi'ar torpedo has exceptional, nuclear technology. The missile will cause the hydrogens to convert into pure energy and literally _replicate_ the molecular structure of the virus contained within—So that the entire breathable air of the world will be filled with the stuff once the atomic blast transpires."

"**Why**, Jamie?"

"Every mutant will be gone. All the bad ones. All the good ones… ….All the way down to you and me, Shion. We will be all gone—"

"**Why Why Why **_**dammit—WHY?"**_ I gasped and stepped forward, forcing the two henchpeople to jerk. Their hands tightened around their machine guns. "Don't tell me that after so many years of hope and rebirth, you've fallen as low and helpless as Mystique. Jamie, the world is changing! I promise you—It is!"

"What's changed about it, Shion? H-Huh?" Jamie hyperventilated. He clutched the vial to his chest like a safety blanket and shouted: "Is the human hatred any less furious? Are the mutant wars any less bloody? Has Magneto stayed dead or Jean stayed alive or the Brotherhood become X-Men and the X-Men forgiven brotherhood or the Morlocks come out for sunlight? _**NO**_!" He shook all over, furious. Seething: "It NEVER ends, Shion! And it _NEVER_ changes! The Professor you still love and admire has accomplished only that which he has always ever accomplished—DREAMING, Shion. All he ever does is dream. All I ever did was dream too—But I've grown beyond that. With each passing day, each multiplication—I see all. All the suffering, all the pain, all the circling madness and fear and hatred in this world: I see it all, Shion. In person. In the _flesh_. Up front and personal—And that's more than either Xavier or Magneto will ever come close to."

"And so this is your solution, then?" I inhaled sharply with a frown. "Eliminate the problem by taking out those who have a problem?"

"WE are the problem, Shion," Jamie hissed. "This world would have been a Hell of a lot happier and safer if mutants like us never jumped into the mix and started so much suffering. I don't believe that we're the next step anymore, Jamie. I don't believe that we're some evolutionary complement to humankind. Because if what's happened over the past ten years on this planet is what you call 'Evolution'—Then I frankly want my ticket out of the god damn gene pool."

"Would Moira agree with you, Jamie?"

Jamie gasped. His furious eyes twitched somewhat. I detected a hint of moisture in the cornea.

I murmured forth: "When she was lying—dead on the floor of her laboratory—slain to death only because she was trying to cure the world of the very same disease that _you are spreading—_Would she agree? Would she…be proud of you?"

"Don't you do this, Shion… …," Jamie hissed. "Don't you pull none of Xavier's shit here! The only person who knows the Hell and torment Moira went through before she died was me—The ONLY damn survivor of the nightmare that went on that island!"

"Don't you think that this is what it's all about?" I exclaimed breathlessly. "Dammit, Jamie! You don't always solve the world's problems by creating bigger problems! The brightest, most beloved people on this planet are those who are willing to shoulder the suffering necessary to save the world by _saving the world!_ Yes, there IS change coming along the way, Jamie! But you must have _FAITH_. Who's to say that another Moira isn't coming along the way to actually manage and save us all? Without making sacrifices like Hank and Piotr had to make on the Moon. Without having to spread fear like Magneto—And sure as Hell without killing off the potential for future generations of people who can make a difference in this world! Jamie, we won't ever know if you KILL every goddamn mutant that's to live or to come behind us!"

"You don't control suffering by squeezing its TAIL!" Jamie shrieked. "Shion, I am taking everything out at the source! This world will still live on after we're done here!" He gestured wildly to the alien beacon. "But _WE_ won't!"

I raised an eyebrow. I glanced aside at the thugs.

The young man and woman tried not to tremble. They dressed the same way. Tan jackets and fatiques. It was like they were siblings or cousins or something else, something more. Her with her blonde bangs like nectar tears and him with his frayed black hair like a starved stallion. I was overcome with the fact that both thugs were frighteningly normal. They were human. They were helping this old friend of mine kill off the menaces to the world.

_How did this madness start? How? _

_Rogue, I need you right now. I need you so badly, please.. …. …If you have it in my heart to forgive me. To forgive me for everything._

_Cl-Clik!_ I aimed the tranquilizer out at Jamie again.

_Everything._

"You're past reasoning with, Jamie," I spoke. "I am going to have to take you down. Unless you hand over the virus to me right this second.. … ..and wait for the rest of my team to come here and arrest all three of you."

There was a firmness to my voice that I got in training. A training that Jamie missed out on. Years ago—distraught over Moira's death—he stumbled off into the personal obscurity of _X-Factor Investigations_. He had become an anthropomorphized figure of the frightened little rabbit that he was at heart. An animal forever howling at the moon in the shadows of a dead mother-figure. You couldn't reason with an animal. But you could shoot it.

"But can you shoot all of us, Shion?" Jamie murmured with a renewed vigor to his eerie voice.

I glanced at him. At the blonde. At the boy—Three targets with six tranquilizer darts to fire—And I was stabbed with the subtle humor of this little boy whose brown head of hair we all loved to dutch-rub back in the days of the Institute. I wanted to cry, but was suddenly to frightened to.

Because once Jamie's sentence had settled in, he walked sideways—Both ways. Two doppelgangers split out of either shoulder and strafed aside. Then four more doppelgangers out of those two. In swift, fluid motion.. …a crescent moon composed of over sixteen Multiple Men stood around me, and each and everyone of them raised a pistol—

_Cl-Cl-Cl-Cl-Cl-Cl-Clakkk!_ I was in the epicenter of a ring of gun barrels and sights. The two thugs knew their place and tremblingly stepped back.

"You're a good shot, Shion," one of the Jamies muttered with a fresh iciness. "And an even better teleporter. After Logan's training, you can run and shoot almost better than everyone in the world. But _I am_ 'everyone in the world', Shion. Do you want to try your luck?" All of the faces furrowed their brows. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to kill you.. …."

I stared down all sixteen pairs of 'menacing' eyes. "Weren't you going to anyways, tonight, Jamie?"

All of the Multiple Men were silent. The strobing of the alien beacon glistensedoff their mirrored eyes.

Then a slight rumbling throttled through the floor. The warehouse's foundation began to rattle and shake.

The girl thug tilted her head up and gasped: "The ship! It's arriving!"

"Man, we'd better get out of here!" the young man trembled. "The Shi'ar dude said he w-wouldn't wait for long…!"

"Just WAIT!" the centermost Jamie impulsively barked while glaring at me. Weapon trained. A pause… ..a fuming… … …and as the thundering engines of the decloaking Shi'ar vessel descended on the warehouse, and spoke breathily to me: "There was a time, Shion, when I wanted no more than to be your little brother." His and all the other Multiple Men's fingers squeezed the triggers, shaking ever so slightly. "You were the coolest person to hang out with in the Institute—When nobody else would hang out with me."

I nodded. "Your powers. You were too clumsy. Plus.. …you always had a cowlick that none of us could keep a straight face around."

Two or three of the doppelgangers smiled bitterly at that. "Yeah…. … …But days of being cute are gone. Although those memories never left, Shion… …." He stumbled, shuddered, and swallowed a lump down his throat before continuing through the voice of a meek doppelganger to my right. "I l-love you and the rest of the X-Family, Shion. I r-really do. But I love them t-to much to let all of this madness continue. It ends. Tonight."

I inhale and lower my tranquilizer. "You've taught me, Jamie. People are capable of doing anything out of desperation. Capable of turning to dark sides hitherto untouched…. .." My mouth hung open as my voice lingered. The warehouse shook with the landing ship outside. The thugs shifted about nervously and the Multiple Men trained in on me as I added: "… …there are s-some dark places I will never willingly go. But that hasn't stopped me from going halfway. Like you and Legacy… …." I reached into my pocket.

The Jamies were too slow to react—

_Sllp!_ My pouch ruffled as I pulled out a thin, metal cylinder fixed with circuitry. "… …and like me and Sinister's Laboratory."

All of the eyes of all the Jamies widened. "You didn't—"

"**I did**," I frowned. I held the mutant restraining collar up high. "And as far as I'm concerned, Jamie.. ….Legacy began with Sinister, and so it shall end with Sinister. The snake eats its own damn **HEAD!**" _THWOOOSH!_ I tossed the collar high up into the air.

The Multiple Men all flinched. At least half of them knew what was coming. The thugs were oblivious—

_Th-Thwoosh!_ I knelt, aimed the tranquilizer, squinted one eye, and—_Thriiiipft!_

_Swissssssssh!_ A single dart flew up, crushed through the power cell of the neck collar, and exploded the anti-mutagen core inside.

_**POWWWW!**_

_**THWOOOOOOSH!**_ A vapor ring of air exploded outward, announcing a distorted ripple of light that represented the charged electrons of the exploding energy core.

"_**AA-**__**AAA**__**-AAA-**__**AA**__**-AAA-**__**AA**__**-AAUGH!"**_ Eight of the Multiple shrieked as they were instantly vaporized from the blast. The rest fell to their knees…

…as did I. "Nnnngh!" my eyes strobed a hot green and then died out as I partially collapsed. I felt the Middleverse being sucked away from me by its fingernails. Only the fresh Cytorrak crystal in my skeletal structure kept me from losing any and all consciousness as my mutant powers temporarily faded.

But what I wanted to achieve happened. The Multiples were fading away. The thugs were confused. And the one Jamie—_the TRUE_ Jamie—was limping half on his feet with the vial ready to fall out of his grasp—

"NNGNH!" _SWOOOOSH!_ I charged forward on lead feet. The rumbling and the thundering of the warehouse lifted me like a feather. Two half-faded Multiples shrieked and lunged at me. I slammed them across the head and ribcage with my boot, dissolving them into oblivion.

"He's going after the vial!" the boy shouted. "Hit him!"

_**RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT! **_

_**RAT-A-TAT-TAT!**_ Both thugs fired at me.

I leapt, dodged the bullets, rolled on the ground, and fired two tranquilizer darts. _Thriipft! Thripft!_

The boy gasped and fell back, both darts impaling into his rifle instead of his torso. The girl stepped ahead, snarled, and fired directly at me. _**BLAM! BL-BLAM!**_

I tensed my body into place—Briefly horrified to remember that I could no longer teleport for the time being. Powerless, I gasped and lunged myself back. _Th-Thwisssssssh!_ The bullets streamed over my nose and grazed a ravine open through the front of my suit. I swung a hand to my belt and tossed a smoke grenade the girl's way. _Cl-Clank—POFFFFFF!_

She coughed and stumbled back by her companion. I was already rocketing back onto my feet and charging towards a confuzzled Jamie who as clutching at his vial and trying in vain to create a double of himself to fight me.

I did the last thing I wanted to do. "Nnnngh!" _**WHACK!**_ I punched Mr. Madrox. Right in the face.

For once in his life, the mutant boy took the impact. He slid back and fell to his rear. The vial dripped out of his grasp and rolled across the floor.

_Legacy!_

I leapt. I flew towards the bane of the world and tackled it like a fumbled football. I slid and scampered to run out of there—

**GRIP!** Jamie's hand grabbed my ankle. In a split second, he reminded me that he was no longer the little baby of the Institute. He yanked my petite body down by the calf muscle and wrestled me for the vial.

I used my head—ramming his neck. He coughed and sputtered. I slapped my elbow across his cheek and kicked him up off of me.

_Th-Thwump!_ He stumbled back into the alien beacon. _CLANK!_ It teetered, teetered, and fell down behind him—**CRACK!** The bulbous head of the strobing device exploded in a rupturing flash of light.

"Nnngh!" Blinded, I crawled backwards on all fours. I felt around. I grabbed a cylinder of metal that was the hydrogen-Legacy vial. I looked up, blinking my eyes.

Cloudy little 'moths' scattered the grayness from my vision as the light returned and so did Jamie's foot, flying into me at the end of a running charge.

_**THWACKK!**_ His boot flew up my face.

I spat blood in a tiny fountain and fell back so hard that I could have sworn my skull cracked.

_Cl-Clank!_—was the sound of the cursed vial landing and rolling far away. I could see nothing but stars now, forget the moths.

_**GR-GRIP!**_ I was hoisted up off my legs and held high into a hot breath: "Nice try, Shion. But I've outgrown you."

I wheezed… ..winced… …then realized—Four hands were gripping me.

_The collar's explosion has worn off. Jamie can use his power again. Which means—_

_**Z-ZAAAT!**_

Two doppelgangers stood side by side, empty-handed. Blinking. "H-Huh?"

_**ZAAT!**_ I appeared above them and fell with a foot planted in each Multiple Man's face. _Th-THWUMP!_ I kick them hard to the floor, backflipped, and dashed forward into the open space of the warehouse---

Only to freeze. Gasping.

_The vial! The vial! _

_Where is it?_

I spun—I looked—I saw…

The young man had picked it up. He stood with it cradled nervously in his grip. The blonde rushed up beside him with her machine gun trained at me.

I held my breath. I squatted and prepared to teleport my way towards the two henchpeople—

_**WHAM!**_ Multiple Man's face slammed against my cheek. I flew back into the arms of…Multiple Man, who twisted my arms painfully from behind.

"A-Augh!" I shuddered.

A third Multiple Man marched up to me. Seething. "Why must you be the death of the **death of things?"** He slammed his fist into my gut. _**WHUMP!**_ Again. _**WH-WHUMP!**_ Again. _**WHAM!**_

I coughed and sputtered and hissed…

"Don't you see, Shion?.!.?.!" He snarled. _**WHAM!**_ "This is the only cure!" _**TH-THWACK!**_ "The ONLY way—"

_**CRASSSSH!**_ A huge explosion rumbled throughout the Warehouse against the steady, thunderous ambiance.

The thugs looked up.

"Th-The ship?" the girl murmured.

"No… …," Jamie breathed. He and four other Multiples looked towards the far wall of the warehouse—

_**SMASSSSSH!**_ Luke Cage smashed his way inside through a gaping hole. "Night school's in session, bitch!"

I wheezed.

_Finally… …_

**Cl-Cl-Clak! Clak!** Eight Multiple Men lined up with a phalanx of pistols aimed. _**BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!**_

Luke Cage stepped back as the Invisible Woman lowered down from outside the whole. _**FLASH!**_ She erected a bubble of telekinesis that deflected all the bullets. After a few seconds of ricocheting monotony, Callisto marched in through the hole beneath Susan and cocked a huge laser rifle the size of her body.

_**CL-CLACK! Wriiiiiiiiiii!**_ "You're done with scurrying, Madrox."

_**ZAAAAA-AAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAP!**_ The laser burned and swept its way in. I ducked and flattened myself to the floor. Those Multiples that didn't were instantly vaporized by the burning stream. One or two that survived rolled across the ground, thundered up to their feet, and charged in exploding numbers.

"RRRRR**RRRAAAAAUGH!"** Suddenly, a flood of thirty-six or more doppelgangers were hurtling themselves at my teammates. They pulled out guns, daggers, and tasers and created an army in under five seconds flat.

The Invisible Woman lowered her force field and stepped aside as Luke Cage came storming through to meet the hideous charge. "HAAAUGH!" _**THWOOOSH!**_ The first two punches he threw swept away a dozen and a half flailing doppelgangers into the air. The Multiples then exploded and clamored all over him, stabbing and biting and firing point blanc into his titanium skin. Rippling waves of telekinesis slapped a few of the Jamie soldiers off of him while I watched the epic warehouse battle from a distance.

I panted. Wincing, I weathered my bruises and glanced back to the opposite end of the warehouse.

The two thugs watched. Horrified. Overwhelmed. The warehouse thundered all around them, the Shi'ar ship was landing outside. The world was coming to an implosion and Doomsday…

…the vial was still in the young man's hands.

"GO! GO!" they heard a voice shout. I heard a voice shout. We all heard a voice shot.

I looked up.

One of the Jamies was waving his arm madly at the two thugs. "You must go! Take the vial to the ship! You know what to do from there!"

They breathlessly nodded and ran out. The blonde trailed behind with the machine gun and ducked through the huge compartment doors beyond.

The shouting Jamie turned and aimed his gun down at me—

_**ZAAAAAAP!**_ From the battle scene, Callisto's laser swept through and disintegrated the doppelganger. 'Jamie's' gun fell to the floor before me. _Cl-Clak!_

"ECTO!" Callisto shouted from the battle-fray. She swung her laser around like a bat and smacked Multiple Men down by the dozens before burning them into oblivion. "DAMMIT, KID! THEY HAVE WHAT WE ALL CAME FOR!" Her one eye glared at me as she swung and fired. _ZAAAP! ZAAAP!_ "YOU MUST CHASE THEM DOWN, ECTO! EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON YOU GETTING…THAT….VIAL!"

I nodded breathlessly. I already knew everything that she was telling me. However, I also already knew that I had suddenly and inexplicably lost my tranquilizer pistol in the midst of my scuffling with the one Jamie. Now I had nothing but—

"…. …."

The still-hot pistol lie before me.

"…. …." I swallowed a soreness that was already forming in my throat from the thought…

_Snatch!_

I swept up the pistol into my grasp, scampered to my feet, and ran full-force through the compartment door after Jamie's henchpeople.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_This mission. This whole mission. Every mutant in the world…. _

I ran up the steps of a catwalk.

I was breathless.

I pulled myself up by the metal railings and shoved myself to the side to crane my neck and look up, up, up…

Ascending above me by about thirty feet were the two thugs. They were desperately running up the catwalk towards the upper platform of the warehouse rear. An exit door at the topmost corner of the interior awaited them, and that was where the Shi'ar rumbling thundered loudest.

_A landing pad. _

_They're getting away with Doomsday._

I ran and ran and ran.

Up another flight—Until I half-perched on a railing and aimed directly up at them through the hollow lattice work of the metal catwalk platforms. "FREEZE! DROP THE VIAL—"

I had barely finished when both gasped and the boy whipped out a pistol in his one free hand to fire down at me.

_**BLAM! BL-BLAM!**_

I gasped and ducked my green highlighted head—

_PING! P-PING!_

I dove my upper body back out, aimed, and fired---**BLAM!** I nearly tossed myself off the catwalk's railing from the blast. _High caliber, Jamie……Why?_

_**CRACK!**_ A section of the platform exploded beneath them from my bullet shot. The boy gasped and leapt aside, clutching the vial to his chest. The young woman took his place, sweating, peering over, firing—_**RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!**_

Bullets flew down the catwalk stairwell and ricocheted all around and above me. Metal bits flew and sparks showered. _P-P-P-P-PING!_

I gasped and flew aside, flattening myself against the warehouse wall. Panting. My heart beating. The whole night thundering. Throbbing. Burning. "Th-This is your last w-warning!" My voice crackled as I re-aimed the gun. "I cannot allow you to make off with that vial—"

_**BLAM! **__PING---(Right beside my skull)—_I flinched.

"Go to Hell, you damn mutie!" the boy wailed, at the end of his breath. "We'll sleep at night with the lot of you gone!"

He shouted.

I hyperventilated.

The sweat and the catwalk steps and the ceiling and the rush of blood to the head—

_**BLAM! BLAM! **__P-PING! _"Always menacing… ..Always threatening… ….Always thinking you're more powerful than the rest of us!" _**BLAM! **__PING_ "It was mutants that killed our parents! Our friends! Back when Stryfe paid our school a visit! All you freaks are the same! I hope you suffer long and hard after tonight!"

I swallow. My throat is dry. I murmur more to the air than to him: "_You've got it all wrong… …You've got it all wrong… …"_

"Stay back!" the girl shrieked. "P-Please! J-Just stay back!" She was near sobbing.

_The moon. _

_Jean, her body on fire. _

_Bodies floating in zero gravity—Melted into ashses. _

"_We would never… … …I-I would never harm a-anyone.. …Never…"_

P-PING! "Go! Go! Go!" the boy shouted as the blonde ran up past him.

I held my breath, frowned, and dipped over the edge. I aimed up. I fired—_**BLAM!**_

_**CRAKKK!**_ The bullet landed in the pistol in his hand. The gun shattered. His fingers burned and bled. "AAA-AAAAUGH!" He clutched the vial, bleeding. He sweated, panted, and stumbled up the catwalk steps after his companion.

I shook… ..shivered—Then snarled. _SWOOSH!_ I ran madly up the steps. The metal lattice flew past me. The night thundered and howled all around me. The battle. The alien ship. The world crashing down like it was settling to do for the past few months, few years, few eons of human evolution.

_She glowed with the fury of ten thousand suns. _

_Shi'ar space craft littered the lunar surface all around her. _

_Together, we charged. _

_  
The X-Men. _

_Into her flaming embrace._

The henchpeople made it to the top floor and ran for daylight. The girl paused to aim over the platform's edge at me and fire—_**RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!**_

I instantly ducked, flattening myself against the metal steps. Scraping—

_PING-PING-PING! P-P-PING! PING!_ Bullets. Sparks. Noise. Noise. Noise.

I aimed up from where I lie. **BLAM! BLAM!**

She ducked both shots, stood up again, fired—_**RAT-A-TAT-TAT!**_

Bullets impaled the metal catwalk above and below me.

I rolled aside to avoid the shrapnel and fired again—nigh upside down. **BLAM!**

_**CLANGGG!**_ A bullet ricocheted off the ground by her feet. Scaring her. She ran after the boy. The two of them were bolting for the door. For the Shi'ar ship.

_They're getting away! _

_  
Legacy! _

_Dani.. …Betsy… …Logan……Sam……! _

_  
Rogue……_

"Nnnng**-NNNGH!"** I ran, I leapt, I flew off the platform and—_**ZAAAAT!**_

_I blurred through the green barriers. I defied gravity. I climbed through the Middleverse and caught sight of mirror-house reflections of the horrors of the past that resurfaced into my palpitating heart that night. _

_Cyclops fell unconscious. Iceman screamed as a hand of flame melted him into organic oblivion. Hank's head burned off and his blue carcass littered the lunar dust. Then the Legacy sample went into Colossus' hands. He charged the final death charge across the Blue Area while Logan held me down. Logan held me down screaming. Fucking held me down as the bane of us all was carried by a titanium warrior into the burning womb of the Dark Phoenix. _

_Into Jean._

_**ZAAAAAAAT!**_

I teleported up.

Through the floor.

At the final exit and before the two.

_Swooosh!_ The boy with Legacy flung the door open into a bright-lit night of noise.

_**CLACK!**_ I aimed the pistol dead-center at him. "FREEZE!"

The blonde gasped and aimed at me, but dared not fire. I was one trigger ahead of her. Ahead of him. Ahead of the fate of the world of Mutants.

And he froze—like I told him to—standing there at the doorway to fate. The Shi'ar ship decloaked outside and bathed him with a bright silver upon the event horizon of his mission. He instead stood trembling, staring straight into the supernova. His stallion-black hair fluttered behind him, and his eyes curved as if blinded and saddened by everything. Blinded—by the space ship. Saddened—by….

"Don't… …take…. …another… …step….," I hissed into the tumult. I squeezed both sweaty hands around the gun and stretched it out at full length. I tried not to tremble, and I was doing half a better job than he was. "Drop the vial… …."

He didn't. He stood there, staring into the white. His lips quivered. His bloodied hand dangled at his side. It was as if he didn't even register me, and I realized then and there that he and I had the same heart. The same determination and desperation. The same necessity—Only I couldn't tell suddenly who was in the worse spot.

Until my throat cracked with the next utterance: "Pl-Please don't take another step.. ….Pl-Please don't make me do this… …" My eyes were watering. My throat was on fire.

The blonde shivered and shook. She could barely train her weapon on me—Especially when I had the drop on one of them first. She cast a fearful glance back and forth from me to--:

"I have to… …I-I have to….," the boy murmured. _What was he? Twenty? Twenty-One? Dear God Dear God Dear God Dear God……_ "I can't l-let this go on… ..I-I can't…."

"Drop the vial now….," I murmured. _Jean's eyes burned. At the last second, they were tearing as she sobbed her way into an agonizing sizzle. When Cyclops woke up, he saw. And he was screaming. He was screaming._ "It doesn't have to be this way, a-alright?" I barked. "We d-don't have to **kill**!"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't make me fucking do this--!" I fell with my voice with my breath with the thunder with his step…

His step through the door—"—STOP—" _Rogue._

**BLAM!** _**SPLORCCCH!**_ My bullet entered his right side and his stomach flew out his left. He lurched for a second, then his eyes glazed over, and he fell back from the light. _Th-Thwump!_

" **JORDAN**" the blonde shrieked.

Gasping, I looked over.

In a kaleidoscope of tears, she dropped her weapon and dove over to his side. She clutched his arms and held him close. "J-JORDAN! Oh God….Oh God Oh God Oh God—No—NO!"

"Snnkkt-Hckkk—Ana…," he gurgled. A limp hand groped the air a few inches in front of her face. "I c-can't…snkkt…ssnkkt-can't f-f-feel…"

"No-Stay with me, Jordan! Oh God—STAY WITH ME!" She clutched the living half of him to her chest and rocked, rocked, rocked. Her face was a waterfall of sapphire tears as she quivered and sobbed a warbling wail into the naked warehouse. "Nnnngh—Haaaaa-Haaaaa-Gawwwwwwwwd!" A sharp inhale. She melted all over him, for he was quickly deflating. "Nnnnghnsnkthaaa_aaaaaaaaugh_!" And the rest of it was a muffled tremor into his throat, like a scar.

He gazed past her. Bright eyes brown and lifeless forevermore. Emptying his soul into the ceiling…. …

… …and straight through me.

"… …. …..," I stood. My breath escaped me in multiple hiccups before I dropped the gun and hobbled backwards from the holocaust. The numbness compounded. The fire in my shoulders worming their way into my heart. I was squatting down my haunches besides the lonely vial of Legacy—dropped to the floor. And as the symphony of sorrow wailed quieter and quieter into the dying night, I subconsciously found myself clinging to the bane of the whole world in my arms. Trying to hold onto whatever it was that I had loss myself to.

And failing.


End file.
